


Bird Cage

by starlitrain



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, First Love, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining Richie Tozier, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Slow Burn, Stanley Uris Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-01-21 06:04:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21294743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlitrain/pseuds/starlitrain
Summary: Richie Tozier was of the opinion that Eddie Kaspbrak was the cutest thing he had ever seen when they were kids. He certainly wasn’t expecting him to look just as cute, if not more so, when they met again twenty seven years later.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 50
Kudos: 141





	1. Chapter One: In the Heat of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fanfiction in about fifteen years, so please be gentle.
> 
> I've also had writer's block since then and this is the first thing I have written in a while that I've actually finished! Hooray!
> 
> What can I say? These two middle-aged men inspired me and deserved a happy ending, dammit.
> 
> I hope you like it. Oh, and Stan lives too because I read that someone was disheartened at the lack of Stan, so I thought I'd include him too.
> 
> Title and lyrics taken from Hot Scary Summer by The Villagers.

_I live inside you_  
_And you live in me_  
_And nothing's gonna change that dear_  
_Not even being apart_  
_We travel right to the heart_  
_Of this hot, scary summer_

Richie Tozier was of the opinion that Eddie Kaspbrak was the cutest thing he had ever seen when they were kids. He certainly wasn’t expecting him to look just as cute, if not more so, when they met again twenty seven years later.

Richie decided that he wasn’t just cute now though. He was _smokin’_… even with his ridiculous knitted fucking cardigans.

Richie had been slightly hoping that his feelings for Eddie had been a mere teenage crush – a result of capricious hormones and youthful emotions that he could laugh about now. What he hadn’t expected was for his feelings to hit him like a freight train as soon as he laid eyes on him. His dark eyes seemed to have grown more intense as he’d gotten older and when he’d focused those eyes on him he’d thought _oh fuck_, but Eddie was still as tightly wound as a fucking spring making it easy for Richie to revert to making inappropriate jokes at his expense and riling him to the point where Eddie would erupt in a stream of fuck-you’s and eye-rolls, thereby successfully (or so he thought) covering up his discomfort at having his feelings reignited.

With this came a realisation that Richie had supposed he’d always known deep down, but when he’d forgotten the past twenty or so years it wasn’t exactly hard to suppress the fact that he had forgotten the love of his life happened to be a _man_. Sex was different, you could sleep with as many people as you wanted and be able to forget about it in the morning (unless you ended up, unintentionally, in a real life bunny boiler situation, which _no, thank you_) - it could be discreet and fleeting. Being in love consumed you and Richie realised that with the absence of Eddie in his life those feelings had just been lying dormant, in wait, ready to consume him again at any point so it could say _gotcha, Richie!_

Back in Derry, surrounded by his old friends, this realisation wasn’t something he was keen to deal with, so he did the only thing he could think to do to block and avoid it – get absolutely shit-faced whilst taunting Eddie about everything from his marriage to his job and – maybe _too_ brazenly – his sexuality, to try and deflect from the jealousy, sadness and loneliness he felt.

The truth was, Richie was scared.

He was scared of people’s reactions, whether they would treat him any differently or remove themselves from his life completely even though he'd spent the past twenty or so years oblivious to their existence. The names he had been called during childhood rang through his head as he realised he was mostly scared of rejection, scared of what Eddie would think, scared that he wouldn’t feel the same and apparently, that hadn’t changed in twenty seven years… until the deadlights.

When he had dropped down with Eddie’s form looking over him after he had speared It with his newfound bravery that fucking _Richie_ had instilled in him, all his fears about telling Eddie had dissipated. Well, _almost_.

But in that moment, Richie felt as though he could tell Eddie exactly how he felt should they make it out of Niebolt House alive… and then that fucking _thing_ had skewered Eddie like a fucking kebab with its ginormous claw, those images he had seen in the deadlights coming to life in perfect clarity in front of him, and Richie realised another fear had taken its place. That’s why he had made every effort to ensure Eddie got out of the sewers with them just in case he had any chance of survival. He couldn't let him die.

When they had finally arrived at the hospital, Eddie was immediately admitted to surgery. The doctor said it was lucky that they had brought him in when they did and Richie had thanked whatever deity that had deigned to look upon him that day that they had managed to hail a truck in time.

The doctor had said that Eddie had lost a lot of blood – a lot of which that had ended up on Richie, soaking his shirt, jacket… there had been _so much_. The claw, however, had missed Eddie’s vital organs meaning there was a good chance of recovery. Their story was that he had been on a construction site and had been involved in an accident. The doctor eyed them suspiciously, but had refrained from asking any further questions, so Richie had insisted that the other losers go back to the hotel and rest, and that he would call if there was any news.

It wasn’t until the others had left, leaving Richie time to think to himself that the guilt had set in. With no one to tell any jokes to and nothing to distract him - the others had gone back, Eddie was still out and his phone was on two-per-cent battery – it became easier for his fucking emotions to worm their way to the forefront and he realised with a jolt that Eddie could have _died_.

Tears began to prick the back of his eyes, so he lifted his glasses to wipe underneath them, sniffling a little. It was his fault that Eddie was in this situation – he was the one who encouraged him to be brave, he was the one who put himself in danger resulting in Eddie putting that bravery into action, and –

“Are you fucking crying over there?”

Eddie’s nasally voice, doped up on morphine and having had a tube down his throat, filled the room and Richie paused, hastily rubbing at his eyes before moving closer to Eddie’s bedside. “Allergies,” he answered, his heart ramming like a mallet against his ribs.

“What allergies? You're more likely to have been fucking pepper-sprayed.”

Richie beamed at him, just thankful that he was now awake, that hammering in his chest easing. “Being around you again, they've rubbed off on me. It’s good to see you,” Richie said.

“Fuck off. I would say the same about you, but you look like shit.”

“Still better than you. How are you feeling?”

“’m okay. Can’t really feel much at the minute, but my throat fucking hurts. I’m sure it’ll kick in when the painkillers wear off though.”

Richie wanted to reach out and touch him, but managed to keep his fidgeting fingers clinging to the bed rail. It required a lot of strength on his part and when that strength began to wane, he said, “I’ll go get you some water.”

When Richie returned with water and an array of snacks ten minutes later, he flung himself down in the chair, piling the goodies onto the bedside table before unscrewing the top from the bottle and handing it to Eddie.

Eddie looked down. “Um, Richie? I kind of need some help sitting up,” he said sheepishly, avoiding eye contact.

Richie slid an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. He smelt of medication and clinical cleanliness. “Okay, but you’re going to have to brace yourself a little.”

Eddie braced his palms on the bed so Richie could hoist him up slightly, grabbing the pillow with his other hand and propping it up a little higher.

Eddie scooted back a little before Richie lowered him against the pillow, watching Eddie's cheeks as they flushed a slight pink. “Thanks, Rich.”

Richie grabbed the water and passed it to Eddie before settling back into his seat and opening a bag of chips.

They sat and talked whilst Richie ate and Eddie drank, about hazy memories from that summer – balmy evenings spent on bikes in the quarry and sleepovers spent hunched over comic books, arguing about which superhero was better - until Richie fell asleep in his chair.

Eddie’s voice filtered through the haze of sleep that had overcome him since they’d started talking a while later. He was exhausted, but could never fully switch off in case Eddie needed him. The others had offered to take over, but Richie needed to be here. He would sink into his guilt spiral more frequently if he couldn’t see that Eddie was improving. "Hey, Richie?" 

When he looked up, Eddie was staring directly at the ceiling, a solemn look on his face.

“Yeah, Eds,” Richie said, shifting in his seat to a more comfortable position.

A beat passed before Eddie responded, “I want a divorce.”

Of all the things Richie had expected him to say, this was not it and for some reason it made him nervous.

“What makes you say that?” Richie asked, resisting the urge to jump up and down at whatever had made Eddie come to this conclusion. 

“I’m just so fucking tired,” Eddie confessed.

Richie felt a pang of familiarity. God, how he understood that feeling.

After a moment, he continued, “I’m tired of worrying about diseases, viruses and fucking _infections_ when it was a clown claw that nearly killed me.”

Richie's heart sunk. “Eds…”

“No, let me finish.”

Richie watched, fascinated as the fire began to light up in Eddie’s eyes and the urge to grab Eddie’s cute as fuck dumb face and just kiss the frustration out of him had taken over his entire being. Instead, he sat and listened patiently, flexing his hands against the fabric of his jeans as if to avoid doing something stupid.

He listened to how Eddie was tired of all the fear-laden false truths he’d had instilled in him since he was a child, and when he said he’d been so fearful and comfortable that he ended up marrying his mother’s clone, Richie let out a laugh, and was about to respond when Eddie went on, a more melancholy note to his voice. “And I’m tired of being so fucking miserable.”

Richie’s brows furrowed and he wanted so desperately to know what it was that had made him so miserable, but before he could ask a nurse knocked gently on the door and walked in to give Eddie his check-up.

Richie decided to make himself scarce and call the others to let them know the developments. He picked up his phone before remembering the battery situation and muttering a whispered ‘fuck’ he made his way to the reception desk.

“Excuse me, may I use your phone?” he asked the receptionist who was busy typing away into a computer.

Without looking up, she said in a saccharine tone and a too-sweet smile, “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t usually allow people to use it unless it’s an emergency.”

Richie felt irritated at her bubbliness. He decided that no one had the right to be bubbly when his fucking best friend had just been injured and was recovering from surgery.

“This is an emergency,” he attempted to whisper, his voice faltering and coming out more like a strangled yelp.

He had no idea what expression he was pulling, but the nurse suddenly stopped typing, took one look at him, and gave him a vigorous nod. Gee, Richie knew he wasn’t exactly a Brazilian soccer player, but if he wasn’t so antsy and fucking annoyed he might have taken it as an insult. He was well aware he was still rocking sewer water and blood stains, noting that this wasn't the worst look he'd ever gone for, so maybe he'd scared her into obeisance, but he'd take it.

He pulled out his phone, which gave him enough battery to at least get Bill’s number, keying it into the phone pad of the corded phone before his battery went.

“Hello?” Bill said, answering after two rings.

“Hey, man, it’s me.”

“Richie?”

“No, it’s the Emperor of fucking Denmark.”

“Actually, the only country to still have an emperor is Japan,” he heard Mike say in the background and Richie couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Fuck you, man. Is everyone there?”

“Yeah, you’re on speaker,” Bill confirmed.

Richie ran a hand through his hair. “Well, our one and only rage-filled hypochondriac is now awake.” The weight of this realisation hit Richie like a lot of things seemed to be doing since his fucking _Derry_ comeback and he once again had to fight back tears, squeezing his eyes shut against the possible onslaught.

He heard them all let out a collective sigh of relief. “How is he doing?” Bill asked.

“Okay, I think. A little drowsy, but that hasn’t stopped him from telling me to fuck off a few times already.”

The others laughed. “Well, someone needs to put you in your place,” Stan’s voice could be heard in the background.

“Richie, if you want to take a break, one of us will come and take over,” Bill interjected.

“No,” and Richie shook his head too even though they couldn’t see him.

Bev’s voice came through next. “You need some rest, Richie. You should take a shower and sleep.”

Richie let out a sigh, feeling an irritation simmering inside. “I can’t. I need to be here.”

“Rich-"

“No!” he slammed a fist down on the desk earning a few questioning looks from both the receptionist and other medical staff. He ran his hand through his hair again, turning to face the wall. “I’m sorry,” he spoke quietly. “I just… I need to be here.”

The others didn’t understand, _couldn’t_ understand the crippling guilt he felt that the reason Eddie was in this situation was because of him. He hoped he managed to convey that in his voice because he sure as fuck wasn’t going to say it out loud. At least, not to them.

There was a pause and then Bill spoke, understanding. “Okay, Rich. Just… let us know if you need anything.”

A chorus of ‘bye’s’ rang out as he hung up. He was about to hang up the receiver when he remembered something. There were only two numbers he knew off by heart, one was his own, the other he jabbed into the keypad.

The international dial tone rang out and he hoped that he was calling at a reasonable hour in whatever country he was in because he didn’t exactly know what time it was in Derry right now let alone a different fucking time zone.

He was going to give up when the dial tone stopped and the light sound of another man’s voice telling someone what to do filled his ears and he smiled despite himself. “Tim Delaney speaking, how can I help?”

“Tim, my dear, how nice is it to hear your voice,” he said in a Southern accent.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Ouch, Timothy, that stung.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course it did, Ricardo.” He could almost hear Tim rolling his eyes. “To what do I owe the honour?” The nickname hit him with the same familiarity he'd felt when Tim had called it him at college. Except now he was well aware of _Eduardo_ and just why it was so familiar.

“I would love to make with the pleasantries and have a good ol’ catch-up, but I sort of need a favo-“

“Anything,” Tim interrupted him without hesitation. “You know that. What can I do?”

Richie smiled, thankful for his only friend outside of the losers that could put up with Richie's antics. He was the only person that appeared to know Richie's secret too. He had never actually told him, but when Tim had returned early from an apprenticeship overseas and passed a man leaving their apartment in the early hours of the morning, he had given Richie a look, but hadn't asked any questions much to Richie's relief. “Do you still have that house in Maine?”

“Why, yes, I do. How long do you need it for?”

Richie let out a breath, relieved. “I just need somewhere. I know it’s short notice and I don’t know how long, but I need it at least by the end of the week if that’s something you can do.” Richie knew he was rambling, but he was powerless to stop it.

“Richard.” Richie paused. Tim was the only one who called him by his full name _much_ to Richie’s annoyance, but it always made him stop short. He figured the others would like him on account of the fact he could shut him up with just one word. “You can pick the keys up at my sister’s. She’s still in Old Town. All I ask is that you leave the place as you found it. Don't leave your empty pizza boxes and food wrappers lying around as I know you're wont to do.”

“Thanks, Tim. I’ll speak to you soon," Richie chuckled.

“Sure, and when you do, you can tell me what all this is about.”

Richie was smiling as he set the phone back down. He gave the receptionist a courteous nod, hoping she wasn’t too upset by his frustration earlier, and made his way back towards Eddie's room. He might not be out of hospital yet and it would be a while before he felt better, but at least Richie had some sort of a plan now.


	2. See My Running, to You, From You, to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie had been in the hospital for five days already and he was in dire need of a shower, so much so he would jump in that fucking lake if it promised to make him even a little bit more clean. He hadn't felt this dirty since he’d been down in the sewers, grey-water swilling around his ankles and a decaying building surrounding him, but at least you could see the dirt there. In a hospital, he felt like the very air was infected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Richie flirts a little with Eddie and Eddie isn't sure what to make of it.
> 
> Title and lyrics at the beginning from a beautiful song called Two Men in Love by The Irrepressibles. I highly recommend it.
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos! I forgot to mention that this will be updated weekly as it's all written out, it just needs editing.

_There’s a strange love inside_  
_It’s getting louder_  
_And lounder and louder and louder and louder_

Eddie had been in the hospital for five days already and he was in dire need of a shower, so much so he would jump in that fucking lake if it promised to make him even a little bit more clean. He hadn't felt this dirty since he’d been down in the sewers, grey-water swilling around his ankles and a decaying building surrounding him, but at least you could see the dirt there. In a hospital, he felt like the very air was infected.

"You ready?" Richie was stood in the doorway, car keys in hand after seeing the losers out who'd come to visit him before catching flights back to New York, California or wherever else they had come from before returning to Derry.

Eddie sat on the edge of the hospital bed wearing actual clean clothes that Richie had brought him from the hotel, which made Eddie feel oddly warm inside. A feeling he had not associated with Richie Tozier before now.

"I have never been more ready in my entire life. If I never see another fucking hospital again it'd be too soon," he said, standing up and putting on his jacket that had been hanging on the back of his chair. "You don't know what kind of germs I've picked up here that are currently festering on my body as we speak," Eddie grimaced.

Richie scrunched his face up. "Well, I'm afraid it's not going to get any better where we're going."

Eddie's expression turned to one of incredulity. "Are you serious right now? Please tell me you're fucking kidding."

"Yeah, the only place I could find on such short notice was a run-down little hostel with wallpaper peeling off the walls, sheets encrusted with god knows what-"

"I swear to God, Richie, you'd better be fucking joking right now because I will have you," Eddie threatened.

"Look forward to it, Eddie Spaghetti," levering Eddie with a shit-eating grin, his tongue flitting between his teeth.

Eddie suddenly became flustered, his mind momentarily going blank and all he could manage to mutter was 'fuck you' before barging past Richie and heading to the car park.

\---

"So, where are we actually going?"

"It's in the little town outside of Derry. You know, with the skate park and the quaint little houses. It's far enough from this shithole, but not so far that we can’t get to the hospital should you have a fucking panic attack about whether or not you have enough gauze."

Eddie smiled, resting his head against the car seat. "I never thought I'd hear Richie Tozier say the word quaint."

"What? You don't think I have any other words in my vocabulary other than 'fuck' and 'asshole'? I'm hurt," Richie said, bringing a hand to his heart in mock insult.

After they had been driving another fifteen minutes bickering about whose music was better and fighting over the dial, Richie pulled up in front of the aforementioned quaint houses hidden back from the main stretch of highway.

Eddie leaned forward in his seat, staring open-mouthed at the building as Richie parked up in front of no. 61.

"How the fuck did you manage to swing this?" Eddie exclaimed.

Richie grinned. "Tim Delaney owed me a favour."

"Is that one of your comedian friends?" Eddie asked, turning to look at him.

Richie's eyes widened in surprise before averting them. He looked like he'd said something he didn't mean to. "Just... an old friend," he answered before exiting the car.

Eddie followed suit, attempting to grab a bag off Richie who had retrieved them from the trunk, but who batted Eddie's hand away playfully insisting he'd got it.

They walked towards the house together.

"After you," Richie said, slotting the key in the lock and pushing the door open.

Eddie walked into a cosy living space, taking in the minimal, clean decor. White walls surrounded them complemented by light oak furniture and an array of quirky but tasteful artwork.

"This is amazing," Eddie stated, wandering into the modern kitchen/diner.

"Yeah, well, I did actually consider getting us that hostel, but I thought you might bust your stitches coughing from all the dust, so I settled for this." He waved his arm around the room nonchalantly.

"This must have set you back... what?"

Richie looked away, sheepish. "It wasn't that much... mates rates, you know?" Richie interjected, dropping the bags on the floor. "Figured you could always pay me back in honey dew me’s when you get better."

"Did you just say honey _do_ me?!" Eddie looked at him incredulously, brows furrowed.

Richie giggled. “Relax, Eduardo. They’re cocktails,” he whispered into his ear as he brushed past him to head towards the kitchen.

“Oh,” Eddie mumbled, looking as though he wanted to camouflage himself in the couch cushions.

\---

The rest of the day was spent putting all their belongings away. Richie had given the house a quick clean and tidy prior to their arrival, ensuring the storage cupboard was stocked with clean towels. The only thing left to do was order food in, the essentials such as milk and bread already purchased on a quick trip to the grocery store the day previously.

It was later that evening when a sense of comfort descended upon them. That feeling you get when you arrive home to a warm apartment, hot food and clean clothes after being caught out in the rain.

Eddie was sat on the couch, freshly washed and fed, a blanket laying over his legs whilst Richie stood in the kitchen brewing a fresh cup of coffee as an old horror B-movie played quietly on the TV.

Eddie smiled, a memory coming back to him. "Hey, do you remember when we used to have those shitty horror movie marathons when we were kids?"

Richie paused, frowning, before the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile. "Yeah, and you used to squeal right in my ear before anything had even _happened_ getting popcorn _everywhere_. I'd be pulling that shit out of my underwear for weeks."

Eddie scrunched up his nose, but he was chuckling. "Sorry about that," he said, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. He looked at Richie who appeared to be staring at him.

He recovered quickly, shaking his head. "You have nothing to apologise for, Eddie Spaghetti. I actually didn't mind it when you'd get scared and climb in my lap."

Eddie looked at Richie so fast he thought his head would spin. His cheeks beginning to feel warm. "Shut up, asshole. I can't see why anyone would want to climb in _your_ lap."

Richie was merely laughing and gave Eddie a wink. "Harsh, Eds, but _you_ did and I haven't had any complaints so far. Do you want a cup?" he asked, retrieving a mug from the cupboard.

"Gross, Richie. Didn't you know you're not supposed to drink caffeinated drinks before bed? It increases your heart rate _and_ the risk of you getting insomnia."

Richie rolled his eyes. "Yes, _mom_. Anyway, I'm more interested in hearing about the prowess of Eddie Kaspbrak."

Richie finished pouring his coffee and sat down on the couch next to Eddie, his feet resting against Richie's thigh.

Eddie scoffed. "What prowess? I've only been with two people." Eddie blinked hard, the last word coming out a whisper.

_Shit_. He hadn't meant to say that, but he seemed to only have two moods around Richie - irate or providing ammunition for Richie to _make_ him irate.

The room was silent apart from the muted bangs and screams coming from the TV. Eddie pulled his legs towards him, the contact against Richie feeling too intimate.

"Eds..." Richie said after a minute.

"Don't," Eddie replied, averting his eyes, embarrassed. He was waiting for the onslaught of comments, but it didn't come. It was only when a particularly gruesome part appeared on screen he looked away and found himself staring at Richie who was looking at him.

"Who were they?" Richie asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

Eddie sighed. "I swear to God, if you start taking the fucking piss-" He stressed, pointing his finger at Richie.

"I won't." Eddie didn't think he'd heard Richie sound as sincere as he had done in that moment and it made Eddie feel strangely comfortable.

"Myra,” he replied on a sigh. “And the first girl was someone in college."

Eddie expected Richie to come back with a retort despite his earlier assurance, but instead he said, "I wouldn't have expected anything less from you."

"What do you mean?" Eddie frowned.

Richie took another sip. "You know, you're careful. You weight up pros and cons, and think about fucking consequences unlike most people. That's nothing to be embarrassed about. Then again, you probably have to make the bed with clean sheets every time you do do it." And, there it was.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Eddie snapped, noticing the way Richie shifted, giving him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, and Eddie immediately felt bad. He cleared his throat. "So, how many people have you been with?" Eddie asked, ignoring the way his heart sped up at the possible answer.

"Not as many as you would think." When Eddie gave him a raised eyebrow, he continued. "Eleven."

"_Seriously_? Mr. I-Fucked-Your-Mom?"

Richie laughed. "Yeah."

Eddie relaxed, feeling calmer and surprised at Richie's admission. They settled in, watching the remainder of the film before heading upstairs to bed.

As they walked upstairs, Richie leading the way, he said, "If you need anything, there's blankets in the cupboard and I've put all your medication on your bedside table with a glass of water - don't worry it's filtered," he confirmed, noting Eddie's expression as they reached the threshold of what would be Eddie’s bedroom, "in case you need them." Richie indicated each item with a wave of his gangly arm.

Eddie was suddenly overcome with feeling too much like a burden as he took in the neat arrangement of his room almost as though Richie had made sure it was up to his high standards before even letting him in the house. He felt like he was somehow weighing Richie down and keeping him from his life back in L.A. He swallowed. "You don't have to do all this-," Eddie whispered, ignoring the feeling that he was taking advantage that had taken precedence in his mind and refusing to meet Richie’s eyes.

"I do," Richie interrupted, his voice cracking slightly, before Eddie had barely gotten the last word out.

Eddie finally looked at him. "_Why_?"

“Because you’re my friend and I-“ he paused, looking away, his throat sounding thick.

Eddie shook his head. “That’s not the reason. Tell me the truth.”

Richie leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed against his chest, the toe of his shoe gently kicking at a fray in the carpet. He kept glancing down at it as though it would give him the confidence to speak. When he did, it was barely a whisper. "It was my fault."

Eddie frowned. "What? No, it-"

"It was,” Richie snapped, tears pooling behind his eyes as he levelled Eddie with a stare. “If it wasn't for me being a complete selfish asshole, you wouldn't have been hurt." The fray had come loose on the carpet now, but Richie was no longer looking at it.

Eddie felt something bubbling up inside him, that same familiar _anger_ he had always directed at Richie, but this time it was for something different. "Hey, Richie. It was my damn decision to help you and I will proudly bear the scar of that. Forgive me for not wanting you to _die_," he shouted, the silence of the house seeming to crash down around them.

Richie opened his mouth as if to say something else, but instead he moved slowly towards Eddie until he was standing right in front of him, so close he could make out every grain of stubble on Richie's chin.

Eddie felt his breath catch and he swallowed it back down. "Richie..." Eddie managed to say, his voice coming out more hoarse than intended. 

Richie didn’t respond and Eddie felt like he would start panting any second. His inhaler would come in useful right about now. The expression on Eddie’s face dropped and he swallowed. Richie’s eyes looked dark and glistening as he towered above him, but he stayed riveted to the spot, unable to look away.

Then Richie gently leaned in, burying his head into the crook of Eddie's shoulder and wrapping his arms around him.

Eddie let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and, lifting his arms underneath Richie's shoulders, placed them on his back. Feeling Richie's solid frame against him and the subtle sandalwood scent of him made a warmth pervade his chest. He couldn't fathom out whether that had always been there when he was near Richie.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Richie whispered, goosebumps erupting where his breath met Eddie's skin.

Eddie didn't trust himself to speak, so he merely squeezed Richie a little harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: characters and It belong to Stephen King apart from Tim Delaney.


	3. While You Were Sleeping, I Figured Out Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie opened the front door to the apartment, arms laden with grocery bags.
> 
> "Eddie?" he shouted, throwing his keys on the side.
> 
> The apartment was eerily quiet and Richie noticed that Eddie wasn't in his usual spot on the couch. His heart immediately leapt into his throat and the shopping bags dropped to the floor.
> 
> "Eddie?" he yelled again, a little louder this time.
> 
> Another pause in which he felt as though he could do with an inhaler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and lyrics from Lullaby by The Spill Canvas.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! All the kudos and comments are really appreciated. Thank you so much.

_It’s those pills that you don’t need to take_   
_Medicating perfection, now that’s a mistake_   
_I know that you’re spent_   
_Just let me sing you to sleep_

Richie opened the front door to the apartment, arms laden with grocery bags.

"Eddie?" he shouted, throwing his keys on the side.

The apartment was eerily quiet and Richie noticed that Eddie wasn't in his usual spot on the couch. His heart immediately leapt into his throat and the shopping bags dropped to the floor.

"Eddie?" he yelled again, a little louder this time.

Another pause in which he felt as though he could do with an inhaler.

"I'm up here!" Eddie's voice called from upstairs after what felt like a lifetime and Richie collapsed momentarily against the wall, regaining his breath before making his way up the stairs.

He heard mutterings and curses coming from the bathroom and slowly opened the door to find Eddie stood in front of the vanity unit, _shirtless_, trying to change his bandages.

"What are you doing, Eds? You should have waited for me," Richie said around the lump in his throat.

"I did. I've only changed the front ones. I had to do something. I was fed up of feeling useless."

"I would have thought you'd have been used to that by now."

Eddie levelled him with a glare through the mirror, "Shut up, Richie. Are you going to help me or not?"

Richie stepped forward to stand behind him, feeling the heat radiating off him. Richie felt light-headed from the mere closeness. The heady scent of him - medication and something distinctly _Eddie_ going straight to his head.

He changed a surreptitious glance at the mirror taking in the toned abs and lean figure in front of him. Fuck, when did he get so... _fit_?

When he spoke, his voice came out hoarse. "So, um, what do you need me to do?"

Richie had been _this_ close to Eddie before - cramped into a tiny hammock or throwing his arms around Eddie's shoulders when Richie was ribbing him, but this was different. He'd never been near - _this_ near - a shirtless, _toned_ and fucking ripped Eddie before.

"Just change the dressing on the back, then clean around it, no biggie," Eddie's voice had become small, and Richie wondered idly if this was affecting Eddie the way it was affecting him, but then he realised with a hard _thunk_ of his heart that Eddie was _married_ and had never given any indication that he felt the same way towards him.

Richie brushed his fingers against a corner of the dressing and began to peel it back until Eddie erupted. "Are you not wearing any gloves, Richie? What have I fucking told you about possible contamination?"

Richie sighed. "Calm the fuck down, Kaspbrak. I'm getting some." He leaned over to grab a pair of the latex gloves from the box next to Eddie.

As he did so, his hip pressed momentarily brushed against Eddie's and he could have sworn he heard Eddie suck in a breath.

Richie slipped on the gloves and proceeded with his ministrations - removing the bandage and cleaning around it with a damp cloth that he'd retrieved from the storage cupboard.

"Right, you're done," Richie said, pulling off the gloves and throwing them in the trash.

"Thank you," Eddie muttered.

Being in such close proximity to Eddie in their already small bathroom was making Richie feel woozy, so he went downstairs and carried the grocery bags into the kitchen before putting everything away, hoping the frozen items nestling against his skin would act like a cold shower and make his heart rate calm the fuck down.

Eddie walked down the stairs around five minutes later, wandering into the kitchen, _thankfully_ wearing a t-shirt. Richie could do without the distraction when he was preparing food.

"Jesus, did you buy out the entire grocery store?"

Richie shrugged. "I wasn't sure what you'd be in the mood for, so I got ingredients for lasagne, mac and cheese, spicy arrabiata... what?"

Richie looked up to notice Eddie staring at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

"Since when can you cook?"

"I learnt in college.” Richie shrugged. “You know when I left home I lived on takeaway pizzas for about two solid weeks until I realised I felt like shit, so I started watching the cooking channels and using actual recipes. What can I say? I'm a natural."

Eddie giggled, seating himself on a bar stool, watching Richie as he pulled out a bunch of bananas and grapes before putting them in the fruit bowl. "I can't picture you actually bothering to _learn_ let alone sat watching Ina fucking Garten.” Eddie paused thoughtfully before asking, “So, what were you like in college?"

Richie laughed, placing some tins into a cupboard. "Probably what you'd imagine - cocky, arrogant, a shithead. I once broke my leg because I got so drunk I thought I could defy gravity."

"Yeah, that sounds more like you," Eddie smiled at him, folding his arms across the table.

Richie paused holding a can of peaches, watching the way the veins in Eddie’s forearms came out stark against his skin. It was like as soon as he'd noticed how lean he was he couldn't _un_notice. Richie thought he might faint.

After a minute, he cleared his throat. "What about you? What was Eddie Spaghetti like in college?"

Eddie looked to the side, pensive. "Miserable," Eddie admitted after a moment of contemplation.

Richie felt his heart constrict at the words, feeling sadness at something he couldn’t possibly have done anything about, but knowing that Eddie had been anything less than happy made misplaced anger rise in Richie's chest.

"Why were you miserable?" he forced out, trying to calm his heart rate for the second time that evening.

"You know, I was a stick in the mud, never wanted to have fun apparently. Always did my assignments on time, never drunk more than a few bottles..."

"That's just classic Eds. Their loss if they couldn't appreciate it, but if it makes you feel any better, I would have been your friend. I would have had you chugging beer out of a barrel though."

"I have no doubt you'd have been a terrible influence on me."

"Of course, I wouldn't have been living up to my reputation if I didn't make you a smoke a few joints or go skinny dipping a few times."

Eddie's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "Skinny dipping? No, I could not have done that. I mean, _look_ at me."

"You're fucking hot, man. Trust me.” The air suddenly felt heavy and Richie regretted saying it as soon as the words had left his mouth, so to break the tension, he said, “Still not as hot as Ben though."

“Fuck you,” then after a minute, “no one is as hot as Ben.” He levelled Richie with such a sensual look as if to say _prove me wrong, asshole_ that Richie figured he’d stepped into an alternate universe.

\---

Of all the things Richie had realised about Eddie from living with him, his extensive oral hygiene routine was the least surprising. He would spend about fifteen minutes flossing before using a tongue scraper so rigorously Richie was surprised he had any taste buds left. He would then brush his teeth for a full two minutes complete with a timer to tell him when he could stop before swilling around a cupful of mouthwash. The whole thing took him an hour, so Richie decided to call Tim, something he’d been meaning to do since they returned from hospital, but Richie didn’t need anyone to tell him he was besotted because he’d been too busy just enjoying Eddie’s company and taking care of him.

Tim picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hey, stranger. You are aware it’s 2am here and I have to be up at 6am to do hair and make-up for a fucking catwalk.” Richie could almost hear his eyeroll.

Richie grinned. “Nice to hear you too. I can call back tomorrow if you want although I would have thought you’d have been thrilled to hear my dulcet tones in the middle of the night."

“Nah, I can’t sleep anyway. What’s up? You finally going to fill me in on the weird-ass happenings in your life?”

“Something like that.” Richie wasn’t sure where to start and he fiddled with the drawstring of his sweatpants hoping it would relax his mind enough to find a suitable place to begin, but Tim ended up doing it for him.

“Does this have something to do with how you can’t remember fuck-all about your childhood?” God, he was insightful.

Richie paused his ministrations. “Erm… yeah. It does, but buckle up kid because it’s going to be one hell of a ride.”

When Richie had finished telling him everything from the losers to Eddie to fighting a bully (having the good sense to omit the interdimensional evil clown because he wasn’t _stupid_) to Eddie to some weird-ass amnesia spell happening everytime someone left Derry to Eddie to being reunited with everyone and back to Eddie.

There was silence on the end of the line when he had finished and all he could hear was the surprisingly calm breathing of Tim. Richie heard him take a swig of something, then he said, “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Richie whispered.

“So, erm, you’re all safe and this… Bowers kid is no more?” Richie could imagine Tim waving his hand around whilst saying this.

“Yeah. I mean, Eddie will have a massive fucking scar on his chest, but we're all alive. That's the main thing.” Richie attempted to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but failed spectacularly. Tim didn't seem to notice though.

“Wow.”

“You already said that.” Richie laughed despite himself.

“I know.” A pause, ice cubes hitting the side of a glass breaking the silence. “So, this Eddie kid? He was your… gay awakening?”

Richie's heart faltered a beat before evening out again. He knew he was going to have to talk about this at some point. Might as well be now. “Well, he certainly isn't a kid anymore, he's fucking _ripped_, dude.”

“Richard.”

Even though it was unusual for Richie to be vulnerable and openly talk with someone about his _feelings_, Tim had been there when the losers weren't even a memory, at a time when he needed someone who understood what he was going through. He remembered trying to hide it from Tim who had taken one look at him and said, “You too, huh?” It bonded them, their common ground, and he became the only person that Richie could talk to about this. It wasn't easy though because Tim had had to _drag_ things out of him before now.

“Yeah," he gulped.

“And you still feel the same after all that time?” Tim's voice had turned tender and Richie decided to throw it all out there and just be honest. If he couldn't with the losers or Eddie, he at least owed it to Tim.

“It was like a gut punch. It was like... as soon as I saw him I thought _shit_. He's got these big brown doe eyes now and _fuck_ me.”

"No, thank you," Tim smiled. "Go on."

"It was still the same, you know? Straight away I launched into old fucking jokes I would have made as a kid like an idiot and he gave it right back to me like no time had passed, so I did the only logical thing."

"Got pissed?"

"Yep."

Tim paused briefly before asking, “And are you planning on telling him?”

Richie shook his head and scrunched up his face before realising Tim couldn't see him. “No, I’m not. I can’t risk ruining what we have.”

Tim sighed. “I get it, I really do, but… if there’s a chance you think he might feel the same, then I think it’s worth a shot.”

“I don’t know. I... don't think he does."

"Okay. Well, I'm going to see if I can get at least another hour otherwise they'll be asking why a fucking zombie thinks they're qualified to do make-up, but send me a picture. I want to see him."

Richie laughed. "Okay. Night."

He ended the call and sifted through his pictures to find one of Eddie. He remembered taking one back in the hospital when they had finally gotten the go ahead to leave. Eddie was sat up in bed smiling sheepishly with Richie next to him, an arm thrown around his shoulder. He had sent it to the losers before they visited and he opened up Tim's messages to send it to him too.

A moment later, he replied with one word. _Dayum, Richard._

\---

Eddie hadn't realised he had fallen asleep until he felt Richie gently moving his shoulder.

"Hey, Eds. We need to get you upstairs. You're going to do your back in on that thing," Richie whispered.

Eddie groaned.

"Well, if you want to add back pain to your list of injuries, then be my guest."

When Eddie still made no effort to move, Richie gently manoeuvred him to a sitting position before slipping an arm around his waist and hoisting him up, trying not to focus on how perfectly Eddie fit into the crook of his arm.

When he was finally satisfied that Eddie could stand on his own, he lead him up the stairs, guiding him by placing a hand on the small of his back.

When they arrived at Eddie's bedroom, Richie pulled the covers back.

"I can do this myself, Richie, I'm not a fucking child," he mumbled, settling underneath them, but forgetting to pull them back over himself.

"Can do it yourself, my ass," Richie responded, lifting them so they rested just under his chin.

Richie stood there a while longer, just looking at how his hair stuck up against the pillow, to the way he laid with a hand tucked under his chin and he felt his heartstrings pull. He didn't understand how he could have forgotten about this, about the losers, about _Eddie_ for as long as he had. Well, actually, he _did_ understand, but that was beside the point. The potency with which his feelings had returned made Richie suspect they'd been there all along just waiting to resurface for he remembered loving Eddie as a freckle-faced bespectacled teenager.

As Eddie drifted off to sleep, Richie couldn't help but stare at every line and wrinkle that had formed on his face over the past twenty years. The man was beautiful and Richie realised he could happily spend an eternity just staring at him. He hadn't realised he had been staring until Eddie spoke, "Are you fucking watching me sleep?"

Richie scoffed. "In your dreams, Kaspbrak. Just counting all the wrinkles on your face. Man, you've gotten old."

"Fuck you, Richie."

As he watched the moonlight cast soft shadows over his face he realised with utmost certainty that he was, and always had been, indubitably and irrevocably in love with Eddie Kaspbrak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sort of wanted someone that Richie could have to talk to outside of the losers that would understand his sexuality and maybe was with him through trying to figure it out. I hope that it comes across in a relatable, realistic way.
> 
> Also, not sure if Ina Garten was out then with TV shows, but I couldn't think of anyone else that may have been popular around the time they went to college in the States, so I apologise if the timing is off with this one.


	4. I Say We Go This Road Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You've been making excellent progress, Mr. Kaspbrak," the doctor said as he finished changing the dressing. "Your partner has been doing a brilliant job looking after you."
> 
> Eddie's eyes widened and Richie choked back a laugh. "Oh, he's not my partner, no, he's just someone who ingratiated himself into my life and now I can’t get rid of him," he finished, casting a glance at Richie who was quietly shaking with laughter.
> 
> "Well, he's doing a wonderful job either way. Keep it up," he smiled at both of them before exiting the room, leaving Eddie to redress.
> 
> "You ready, lover boy?" Richie asked, opening the door when Eddie had finished buttoning up his shirt and pulling on his jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really felt the struggle with editing this today. I don't know if it's because I'm tired, but I hope you like it anyway!
> 
> Title and lyrics from All-American Boy by Steve Grand.

_And now, I know that’s your girl, I mean no disrespect_   
_The way that shirt hugs your chest, boy, I just won’t forget_   
_I’ll be sittin’ here, drinking my whiskey_   
_I won’t say goodnight unless I think you might miss me_

"You've been making excellent progress, Mr. Kaspbrak," the doctor said as he finished changing the dressing. "Your partner has been doing a brilliant job looking after you."

Eddie's eyes widened and Richie choked back a laugh. "Oh, he's not my partner, no, he's just someone who ingratiated himself into my life and now I can’t get rid of him," he finished, casting a glance at Richie who was quietly shaking with laughter.

"Well, he's doing a wonderful job either way. Keep it up," he smiled at both of them before exiting the room, leaving Eddie to redress.

"You ready, lover boy?" Richie asked, opening the door when Eddie had finished buttoning up his shirt and pulling on his jacket.

Eddie spun around fixing Richie with a glare.

A frown appeared on Eddie's brow only intensifying his gaze and an emotion that Richie couldn't quite place flashed in his eyes. The first thing Richie thought was _fuck_ and the second was that it was taking a sheer amount of strength not to reach out and touch him.

Eddie's eyes flicked down to Richie's lips and Richie licked them in anticipation - of what, he wasn't quite sure, but he didn't want to move lest the fragility of the moment be ruined.

A moment later, someone came barrelling past the door and Eddie walked past him into the corridor, brushing against him in the process. The moment was gone as suddenly as it had appeared and Richie sighed into the empty room.

\---

Richie continued to tend to Eddie, making sure he was comfortable and that he didn't have to do much, whilst simultaneously yearning for him in a way he hadn't done since he was a teenager.

Eddie had gotten so frustrated at one point that he told Richie he may as well resign himself to a life of indolence and let Richie become his butler.

"Be honest, you would totally love it seeing me rock a tux."

Eddie scoffed. "Yeah, okay, if you say so. Although it would make a nice change from the fucking ridiculous shirts I have to see you in,” he said, flicking to the next page of the book he was reading.

"A _nice_ change?" Richie raised an eyebrow, smirking, wiping his hands on a tea towel.

"Yeah, I think you’d look quite nice in something smart," Eddie muttered almost absently, not looking up from his book.

"Quite nice, Eds?" Richie smiled.

It was a small movement, infinitesimal to anyone other than Richie who looked at Eddie like he hung the moon, but Eddie’s eyes widened momentarily making Richie’s heart stutter. There was a pause and then Eddie said, "Fuck off."

So, Richie had acquiesced against his better judgement letting Eddie potter around the house, tidying the place, giving it a general spring clean despite it being neither spring _nor_ filthy.

When Richie returned after making a trip to the pharmacy to gather more supplies, Eddie was standing in the room with a packed bag at his side. He'd changed from the hundredth pair of sweatpants he'd been living in for the past month or so into jeans and a smart shirt complete with grandad cardigan.

Before Richie could speak, Eddie said, "I need to go back to New York."

Richie's stomach felt as if it had sunk all the way down into his shoes. "Oh." He looked down at the bag of medication and dressings in his hand. "I guess you'll be needing these then.” Richie tried to keep the deflated tone out of his voice, handing the bag over to Eddie, but he didn't think he succeeded.

"I'm coming back, dumbass," Eddie said. "I just... need to sort out things with Myra and work."

\---

Richie hadn't realised how accustomed he'd grown to having Eddie back in his life until he was in New York.

He moped around the apartment like some kind of lovesick teenager, missing the way Eddie would complain about the proper protocol for wound care and just the general way in which Eddie _existed_ \- the way his lips were almost permanently down-turned, but how Richie could make them twitch into a small smile with a well-timed joke, how Eddie would tell him to fuck off when he went too far or if Eddie didn’t like where the conversation was going, and his soulful eyes when they were looking back at Richie.

Richie started having more vivid dreams too - well, _night_mares might be more apt - not realising how he relied on having Eddie there to check on that calmed his mind.

It was in these moments that he would find himself texting him under the guise of some inane memory he'd recently remembered that tempered his anxiety slightly.

_Hey, Eds. Remember that time we rode our bikes to the lake and you ended up getting tangled up in fucking seaweed and vines because you didn’t check the deep end? Bill had to dive in and save you?_

It didn't take long for Eddie to respond, which made Richie think that either Eddie was already awake or that Richie had woken him up, but that Eddie didn’t mind and needed the comfort too.

_Haha, Trashmouth. I didn’t see you being noble and helping me_.

_Aw, but you know I would have, Eds._

_Don’t fucking call me that._

Once Eddie had texted back, he would sleep much better.

Until one night, he didn't.

At first, Richie thought Eddie had managed to have a decent nights sleep, but when a text didn't arrive in the morning or that afternoon either he began to worry. What if Myra had killed him and tried to cover it up? What if Eddie had decided to stay in New York? What if Myra had pulled a _Misery_ and was holding him hostage? _And where was a fucking inhaler when you needed one?_

Richie panicked, then stopped. He had never considered himself to be an overly anxious person, but his mind was conjuring up all sorts of scenarios and he realised suddenly that living with Eddie Kaspbrak had started to rub off on him.

\---

Eddie wrapped his knuckles on the door three times, a sick feeling spreading in the pit of his stomach. He began to take several deep breaths, telling himself to breathe in, out, in, out, in-

Myra opening the door made him forget to exhale and a forceful 'hi' left his lips.

As soon as she saw him, she flung her arms around his shoulders exclaiming, "Oh, Eddie, I've been so worried about you? What took you so long?"

He awkwardly patted her on the back with one arm. He hadn't spoken to her properly since he'd left for Derry. He'd sent her sporadic updates about when he was coming home, but he had just been avoiding the inevitable. He had wanted to speak in person, not send her a text about wanting a divorce like one of those stock brokers that break up with their wives of twenty years for a younger model over text. He needed to do this before he could fully start afresh and he had known it wouldn't be easy.

"Hi, Myra," he tried again. "We need to talk."

"Sure, honey. Please come in out of the cold, you'll catch something if you're not careful," she said, ushering him in by the shoulders.

As soon as Eddie was through the door, Myra began fussing over him.

"Please, sit down, Eddie-bear. You're making me nervous," she said, heading towards the kitchen to brew a pot of tea.

Eddie mustered all the courage he had to say, "I'm not staying."

Myra looked at him disbelieving, then broke out into a giggle. "Stop being silly, Edward. This is your home."

Eddie looked around at the floral patterned curtains and the dark wood furniture. It was all Myra’s and Eddie realised he wasn't even sure what his style was.

Despite the house he had been sharing with Richie not being in any way familiar to Eddie, he felt a sense of belonging. Although unfamiliar, it was not strange, and the presence of Richie made him feel even more at home.

Being back at his actual home where he'd spent most of his adult life, it felt foreign to him like he'd walked into a strangers house.

"Look, Myra, when I was back in Derry, I realised a few things."

Myra's expression changed suddenly from of incredulity to one of utter contempt. "You went to see them." She laughed again, maniacal and shrill. "I should have known they’d turn you against me. I've told you time and time again just like your mother-"

"But you're not my mother. You're supposed to be my wife." Eddie’s heart beat heavily against his chest.

Myra ignored him. "They're bad influences, Eddie. You know you can't trust them."

Eddie had tried to keep calm, but he snapped at this insinuation. "Are you _shitting_ me? I'm a grown man with a fucking mind of my own."

Myra feigned disgust, her hand going to heart like she'd been wounded. Then she became sullen. "It's him, isn't it?"

"What?"

"That… _Tozier_ boy." Eddie hated the way she spat out Richie’s name, but the curiosity as to how she knew about him won out. Before he could ask though, Myra continued. "Your mother told me all about him. How he was always hanging around you, always trying to get _far_ too close to you than a boy should."

Eddie gulped feeling like all the air was leaving his body. _Was Richie...?_ No. He couldn't let himself be distracted from what he came here to do. He tried to grasp onto one of the many thoughts swilling around in his mind for something to say, but then his phone vibrated. He could feel it pulsing against his thigh.

"That's him, isn't it?"

"What, are you psychic now?" Eddie asked, knowing she was probably right.

He pulled out his phone to check when Myra reached out and snatched it out of his hands.

"Myra!"

Myra pressed the button at the side lighting up the screen. Her eyes began to glisten with tears.

Eddie knew the situation was fragile and any wrong move could result in never leaving this place, so he tried for calm.

"Myra, please. Just give me my phone back and we can talk about this."

"What about this, mm? _Hey, remember the hammock and how you used to be so impatient that you’d end up climbing in with me? I think you just secretly wanted a piece of me_." Her voice faltered on the last word.

Eddie closed his eyes against her. _Great timing, Trashmouth_, he thought.

"Look, Myr-"

“Did you like it?” Myra asked.

Eddie stalled. He had so many thoughts in his head he couldn’t think which one to start with. “What?” was all he managed to get out.

“Did you like it?” She spoke slow and enunciated each word as though Eddie was a child and Eddie suddenly couldn’t think of anything. His mouth went dry and he swallowed against the lump in his throat as he asked himself… _did he?_

When he didn’t answer, Myra turned around and threw his phone into the dish water.

"What did you do that for?" Eddie shouted, regaining his composure although his statement lacked the vehemence it normally would have.

"You need to stay away from him. He's poisoning you."

Eddie shook his head. "No, Myra. The only one that's been poisoning me is you. Richie is one of my best friends and yeah, I _do_ remember doing that when we were kids and…” he paused before saying, “yeah, maybe I did like it."

It was like a lightning bolt of realisation and he needed some air, the weight of it coming down on him like a heavy blanket, so he turned around and walked out of the house before turning back, opening the door and shouting, "By the way, I want a divorce,” through the tightness that had begun to form in his chest.

When Eddie got back outside, he did what he could to remain calm. He was half tempted to go back to the house to grab his other inhaler, but he wasn't foolish enough to venture into the lion's den twice, so he focused on things he found relaxing... showers... dogs... but everything he thought of he could relate back to that fucking clown. Then he thought of Richie, his pulse speeding up and he felt his pockets for his phone before remembering it was currently taking a swim in the sink - _fuck_.

It all became too much and he passed out in the front seat of his car.

\---

When he awoke, he was lying in another hospital bed. The medicated scent had already reached his nostrils before he even had chance to open his eyes.

He saw a movement in the corner of his room. "What - what happened?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"It was lucky that someone found you Mr. Kaspbrak,” a sonorous voice said from his side. Eddie looked up to see a doctor gazing at him. “We believe you had a panic attack."

"Shit." Eddie rubbed a hand over his face. 

The doctor giggled. "Well, the good news is I have no further concerns although I would recommend finding some coping mechanisms in case this happens again."

Eddie gulped. "What's the bad news?" His mind thought about a complication to his chest wound or that he would need more medication, his heart rate beginning to speed up.

"Oh, no bad news. The great news actually is that you can go home today. I'll just fetch your paperwork."

Eddie lifted himself off the bed, feeling relieved, and he cracked his neck and shoulders to iron out the stiffness. He remembered going to Myra's and telling her he needed to talk. He remembered her shouting, criticising his friends, _Richie_, her taking his phone and reading a message and then…

The doctor walked back in and fixed a bright smile on Eddie. "Right, you're all ready to go. I'm sure Richie will be pleased to see you."

"R-Richie?" Eddie stammered.

"Yeah, you mentioned him in your sleep."

_Shit._


	5. I Can Feel Your Whisper and Laying on the Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Eddie hadn’t returned after two weeks, Richie began listening to the radio to fill the silence of the house. Songs about being frightened, but ready to learn about the power of love, and needing to be near them every night, every day.
> 
> “Oh, _please_, I’m not that transparent now surely?” he spoke to himself, wiping down the worktop in the kitchen.
> 
> “They say you’re going crazy when you start talking to yourself, so you must be batshit _insane_ talking to inanimate objects. That’s some next level shit.” Richie turned around to see Eddie stood in the doorway, his luggage at his side.
> 
> Richie’s throat felt dry as he took in the sight of Eddie. He looked worn out, but relieved and Richie desperately wanted to know how it had gone, but didn’t want to bombard him straight away. “Well, we already knew that,” Richie managed to respond with a smile, throwing the wipe in the trashcan.
> 
> The sounds of the radio filled the silence between them as Eddie made his way into the kitchen, leaning with his back against the door frame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and lyrics from Poison by Rita Ora.
> 
> I hope you like the chapter - thank you so much for all the kudos!
> 
> Any timelines or information that I may have got wrong, I'm sorry.
> 
> TW: reference to physical homophobia. You can skip the paragraph beginning: 'Richie sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We met in college...'

_Nothing ever gets me high like this_  
_I pick my poison and it’s you_  
_Nothing could kill me like you do_  
_You’re going straight to my head_  
_And I’m heading straight for the edge_

When Eddie hadn’t returned after two weeks, Richie began listening to the radio to fill the silence of the house. Songs about being frightened, but ready to learn about the power of love, and needing to be near them every night, every day.

“Oh, _please_, I’m not that transparent now surely?” he spoke to himself, wiping down the worktop in the kitchen.

“They say you’re going crazy when you start talking to yourself, so you must be batshit _insane_ talking to inanimate objects. That’s some next level shit.” Richie turned around to see Eddie stood in the doorway, his luggage at his side.

Richie’s throat felt dry as he took in the sight of Eddie. He looked worn out, but relieved and Richie desperately wanted to know how it had gone, but didn’t want to bombard him straight away. “Well, we already knew that,” Richie managed to respond with a smile, throwing the wipe in the trashcan.

The sounds of the radio filled the silence between them as Eddie made his way into the kitchen, leaning with his back against the door frame.

For once in his life, Richie couldn’t find anything to say. Eddie was frowning, his eyebrows pinched together. He was staring at the pattern on the floor like it held all the answers.  
Richie was just about to make a joke about Eddie wearing rubber gloves in the airport when Eddie spoke.

“I was a jerk.”

Richie had known Eddie all his life – not counting the twenty-seven years of amnesia – and he had never known Eddie be a jerk unless it was sorely deserved. “Nah, man. I’m sure you weren’t.”

“I was. I know it was probably just crocodile tears, but… I still was.” He looked up at Richie in that moment, hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes all sad and intense.

“Hey, Eds.” Richie stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulders. “I have never known you be a jerk. Except to me.”

“Only because you deserve it.”

“Ouch.” Eddie’s lips twitched and Richie smiled back, ignoring the heat from where his hand met Eddie’s shoulder.

“Anyway, I better unpack,” Eddie said, stepping back through the door, Richie’s hand slipping from his shoulder.

He was just gathering the lighter bags to take upstairs when Richie had an idea.

“Do you want to go out and celebrate?” Eddie turned to look at him. “We could go to that little Mexican place you like or we can just go to some bars and I can show you what you were missing out on in college.” Richie shrugged.

Eddie pursed his lips in contemplation and for a moment Richie thought he was going to decline, but after a moment, he smiled and said, “Okay, but you’re buying.” Because when had Eddie ever been able to say no to Richie?

\---

Eddie and Richie sat at the bar wedged together on two bar stools. They had eaten at the Mexican place as Richie had suggested – Eddie listing off all his allergies to the waiter whilst Richie rolled his eyes – before moving onto a bar a few blocks away.

All Eddie could concentrate on though was the way Richie’s arm was pressed comfortably against his. He could feel the warmth of his skin through the soft fabric of his top. If he moved away, Eddie found himself missing the contact and moving his arm a millimetre closer each time, hoping Richie wouldn’t notice.

Richie kept apologising because his fans and others who recognised him kept walking over to them asking for pictures or an autograph, but Eddie enjoyed watching Richie in his element, interacting with his fans, making them laugh and every time he smiled Eddie’s stomach flipped, which turned into acrobatics every time he directed that smile at him. Eddie realised he liked watching him from afar – his gangly limbs being too long to know what to do with, the way his hair just hung haphazardly around his features rather than being in any particular style, and Eddie thought that he was rather beautiful.

When he finally had a breather to come and sit back down, he clapped Eddie on the back, his thigh brushing against Eddie’s. “Sorry about that, Eddie Spaghetti. I have a duty to the general public.” He took a swig of beer. “You want another?”

Eddie smiled, running his fingers around the bottle of beer. “I’m good, thanks.”

Richie frowned, his eyes moving from the bottle to Eddie’s eyes. “Are you okay? You’ve been a little subdued since you got back from New York.”

Eddie felt a haze around his inhibitions whether from the alcohol or the closeness of Richie, so he blamed that for what next left his mouth.

“Are you gay?”

Richie’s expression faltered and he smiled sadly, his eyes averting to look at the mahogany wood bar. “What makes you ask?” He looked back at Eddie, his expression undecipherable.

Eddie felt like he’d asked the wrong question and a sinking feeling filled his stomach. He gulped. “Just… something that was said,” he practically whispered, beginning to peel the label from his bottle of beer.

Richie raised his eyebrows before taking another swig, then he grabbed Eddie’s hand, spinning him off the stool. “Come on.”

Eddie wasn’t sure if Richie had meant to grab his wrist or his hand, but followed him outside anyway. Myra’s voice rung in his head _you’d follow him everywhere even if it was no good for you_. He closed his eyes if it would block her out.

Eddie felt the cool air hit his face and he opened his eyes. The sky was darker than when they’d first entered the bar, the only light the moon and the street lamps. Richie let go of his hand and Eddie immediately missed the contact, clenching it and unclenching it to try and distract him.

Richie paused for a second before turning to face Eddie. There was no one else around – behind the bar was a small lake surrounded by trees on either side and it was here that Richie had lead him to. Eddie was unable to make out the expression residing in his eyes, but he looked worried.

Thrusting his hands into his pockets, Richie said, “You remember when I said Tim Delaney owed me a favour?”

Eddie nodded.

Richie sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We met in college. He was my roommate. Neither of us were really… _out_, I guess, but his dad was an army general and he found some… magazines that we hadn’t fucking hid very well.” Richie was smiling, seemingly at their stupidity. “So when he came for an impromptu visit, his dad found them.” He shook his head like he’d done at the clubhouse. “He was so angry, so I said they were mine and I got a black eye for my troubles, so…”

Eddie gulped about to apologize, but Richie continued.

“I managed to spin some bullshit story, but he accused me of corrupting his son. Tim could not thank me enough, so he said if I ever needed a favour to let him know. Never thought I’d need to cash that in, but I guess I finally did.”

Eddie spoke around the thickness in his throat. “Richie… I…”

Richie held up a hand. “It’s okay, Eddie.” He frowned. “But how did you know anyway? What exactly did she say?”

Eddie looked away, suddenly embarrassed. “I, um, it was something Myra said.” Eddie didn’t want to admit to what his mum had said to Myra to make her say what she said, but he wasn’t ready to find out whether that was true or not, so he consciously omitted it.

“Myra? _Wow_. I guess I wasn’t being as discreet as I thought. The woman’s never even met me.”

“I know, right?” Eddie awkwardly laughed. “It’s like she’s got x-ray vision or something.”

Eddie had never seen Richie look so nervous, running a hand through his hair and shuffling his feet. Eddie just wanted to throw his arms around him.

“Are we good?” Richie asked, hopeful, making Eddie’s heart clench at the question.

“Of course.”

\---

Eddie had said they were good.

Eddie had lied.

Ever since Richie’s admission, Eddie was unsure of how to act. He read into every little joke and touch, wondering about anything incorrect that he shouldn’t say.

He would flinch every time Richie would touch him and suddenly didn’t know how to respond to him. Finding out Richie was gay was like a veil had been lifted, allowing Eddie to give precedence to the feelings that he had been suppressing for so long.

He found it hard to articulate this to Richie, so when Richie would give him a tight-lipped smile and a sad look after another non-retaliatory remark, Eddie had no idea how to respond, feeling a weight around his chest.

It wasn’t until one night when Eddie had gotten up to use the bathroom that he heard a noise coming from Richie’s room. He gently opened the door, his eyes adjusting to the room before his eyes landed on Richie’s form in bed, shaking, short breathy sobs that made a guilt like nothing he’d ever known pervade Eddie’s chest. Eddie entered, knowing he needed to make this right, but not sure how.

He walked over to the bed, kneeling down in front of Richie. His eyes were scrunched up, the tears on his cheeks glinting in the moonlight.

Eddie placed a hand on Richie’s shoulder and he nearly fell backwards when Richie sat up on his elbow so quickly, retrieving his glasses from the bedside table.

“What the fuck, Eds?” he sniffled.

“I’m sorry. I just…”

Richie sat up in bed, wiping at his eyes. “You should know better than to sneak up on a man in his abode. I could have had my hands down my fucking pants,” but it wasn’t said with the same vigour as usual.

“Gross, Richie,” Eddie smiled, wanting to make Richie smile and he thought he saw a slight one curl up at the corners of his mouth.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked after a minute.

Richie snorted. “Yeah. Just… allergies.” He wiped at his eyes.

Eddie’s eyebrows raised. “You don’t have allergies, asshole.”

There was silence in which only the sounds of Richie’s sniffles and heavy breathing could be heard before, in a rare moment of vulnerability, Richie opened up. "You know, it wouldn't really bother me if someone had a problem with me." He paused, wiping at his eyes. "What I was mostly scared of was having you not wanting anything to do with me anymore and treating me like a leper." He laughed, attempting to make a joke about it, but the weight of how Eddie had been making Richie feel laid heavily on him. The magnitude of it made Eddie realise how his own cowardice had made him act, turning Richie into a kind of caricature from a Danielle Steele novel. 

Eddie realised with force that he had made Richie feel like the thing that had spewed up on him, the _thing_ that Eddie had been genuinely terrified of, and he swallowed around the lump that had begun to form in his own throat.

Eddie forced his legs to move, pulled back the covers and slipped underneath the sheets with Richie.

Richie was still covering his eyes with his hands, so Eddie pulled them gently away to remove his glasses before putting an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in.

Eddie laid back on the soft pillow as Richie laid his head on his chest, his arm coming to rest across his stomach.

Richie's legs rested tentatively against Eddie's and he was so tempted to just grab one and pull it over his and show him just how much he didn't think Richie was a leper, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

When Richie's body had begun to relax, Eddie couldn't decide whether having Richie this close was making _him_ relax or whether it was sending his heart rate up affecting his blood pressure. As he felt his heart thud against his chest in quick succession, he decided it was the latter.

"Hey, Rich?" Eddie asked.

He thought Richie had fallen asleep until a muffled 'mm' vibrated against his chest. He gulped.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm sorry for making you think I hate you and for making you feel like that fucking _thing_ that spewed up on me."

Richie chuckled. "So, you don't hate me?" The words hit Eddie at his core. Such lack of confidence seemed dissonant coming from Richie. That was more Eddie's territory.

"No, dumbass. I love you," he said before realising how that might have sounded. His eyes widened in the dark, but he didn't notice the way Richie's body stilled at his side and he quickly tried to say something else. "Plus, if I had to decide whether I would rather have that thing vomit on me or _you_, I'd definitely pick you."

"Aw, Eds, you sure know how to make a girl feel special?"

"Well, I'd ideally pick not being spewed up on at all, but you know. If I had to choose."

Richie snorted. "Thanks, Eds."

Eddie began to drift off, Richie's arm still heavy on his stomach, feeling Richie’s fingers play with the material of his shirt when he spoke.

"Eds?"

"Yeah," he muttered.

"I love you too."

"Goodnight, Rich."

"Night."

Eddie was too sleepy to think about whether that might mean something else.

\---

When Eddie awoke the next morning, the early morning sun casting the room in a golden glow, he noticed Richie was laid in the same position, except he realised that he'd shifted a little further up. He could feel the soft waves of Richie’s hair brushing his chin and his warm breath on his neck. Eddie decided he could stay here, content, but knew he needed to get up.

He attempted to extricate himself from Richie’s grasp by sliding to the side, but unfortunately it woke him up.

"Mm, where are you going? You're so warm," Richie mumbled, voice still laced with sleep.

Eddie felt Richie’s hand trail all the way across his stomach as he shifted, butterflies erupting in their wake as he sat up. Eddie couldn't help the smile that crossed his face and giggled.

"I'm going to make some breakfast," Eddie said.

"What are you making?"

"It's a surprise," Eddie said, leaving Richie to come around whilst he made his way downstairs, ignoring how domestic this entire situation felt.

Eddie was trying hard not to think about the fact that he'd spent last night in his best friend's bed wrapped up in said best friend's arms as he grabbed some eggs and began to make pancakes.

He poured some coffee beans into the machine and brewed a fresh batch.

By the time Richie walked downstairs, hair all dishevelled in his pyjama shorts wearing a white t-shirt with little goats all over it. He stifled a yawn as he took a seat on the bar stool and Eddie realised he could spend every morning waking up to this.

"You alright there, Eddie Spaghetti?" Richie asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Eddie hadn't realised he'd been staring and quickly returned his gaze to the blueberries he had halfway washed. "Yeah, I’m just tired."

"Really? I haven't slept so good in months." He yawned, stretching his hands above his head. Eddie peaked at the sliver of skin that appeared between his t-shirt and shorts.

"Yeah, me too," Eddie squeaked.

"Okay, what's wrong? You've just contradicted yourself there."

Luckily, the coffee machine finished at that moment and he manged to pour two cups as well as plating the pancakes topping them with blueberries, bananas and maple syrup, sliding a plate in front of Richie with his coffee effectively avoiding his question.

"This looks amazing, I could get used to this," he muttered, before clearing his throat.

"Yeah, well, after today you can take over again."

"Aw, all I get are pity pancakes?," he said around a mouthful before pouting. “I personally think we should start taking it in turns.” He left out a sinful groan, the sound making goosebumps appear on Eddie’s skin. “So good.”

Just that second, the post dropped through the door and Eddie was glad for the reprieve as he went to retrieve it.

He walked back to the kitchen sifting through the letters until he came across a white envelope reading Mr. Kaspbrak and Mr. Tozier on the back in calligraphy.

He frowned, throwing the other letters onto the table and opening the more regal looking one.

"What's that?" Richie asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I don't know," he said quietly, just as he pulled out an elegant looking blue and white invitation.

"Holy shit," he exclaimed as Richie jumped up and walked around to his side.

In unison, they both read the gold emblazoned letters that read:

_You are cordially invited to the wedding of Ben Hanscom and Beverly Marsh._  
_26 November 2016. 2pm._

"Those fuckers," Richie said, pulling out his phone and facetiming Bev.

She answered after five rings looking utterly glowing.

"Hey guys!" she said excitedly.

"Don't 'hey guys' us. What the fuck is this?" he asks, pointing to the invite. "Why weren't we informed?" He flicked the invite in Eddie's hands before slinging his arm around Eddie's shoulders.

Bev giggled. "I'm sorry, it was just so quick. Once my divorce was finalised, we just decided to go for it."

"You two are putting us all to shame."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Ignore him, Bev, he's just jealous. Congratulations!"

"Thank you! You guys will be able to make it, yeah? I know its short notice."

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Eddie stated.

"Speak for yourself," Richie responds. "I happen to have a hot date with Mrs. K that evening so I'm afraid I can't make it."

Eddie glared at him as Bev smiled.

"Which one, the mother or the wife?"

Eddie's eyes flashed back to Bev. "Hey! You're supposed to be on my side!"

Richie laughed, turning his head to bury it in the crook of Eddie's neck and Eddie had to fight to keep his expression normal.

"Oh, Eddie, honey, I'm always on your side."

"Whatever traitor."

Bev continued. "We were actually hoping you would come up a few days before, you know. We can have another meal, spend some time together. The name of the hotel is on the invite and if you call up and say you're a member of the Hansom-Marsh party you'll get priority with rooms."

"That sounds amazing, Bev. We'll be there."

"I look forward to seeing you. Bye."

"Bye," Richie and Eddie said together before Richie ended the call.

"We should have made a bet as to how long it would take them to tie the knot," Richie said, walking upstairs carrying his cup of coffee.

Eddie suddenly felt a pang of anger. "Are you going to tell the others you're gay?"

"What?"

"Are you planning on telling the others you’re gay or are you going to continue to make 'your mom' jokes for the rest of your life?" Something about this had really irked Eddie and he couldn't figure out why on earth it had made him so angry.

Richie sighed and Eddie immediately felt that guilt again. "I will in my own time, but this moment was Beverly's."

He continued to walk and then paused, turning to Eddie, levelling him with a dark gaze that made Eddie root to the spot. "When are you going to tell them you got a divorce?"

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, but closed it when nothing came out. He couldn’t argue with that. “Fuck you,” but it came out more of a whisper.

Richie pointed and winked. "Thought so.”


	6. What's It Gonna Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie had been in charge of getting both their outfits for the wedding. Bev had informed them that it was a very small affair and as such, there would be no traditional wedding parties.
> 
> The only thing Richie was in charge of was packing his own bag for the three nights they would be staying and he couldn't even do that right as Eddie walked past his bedroom noticing that he'd packed way too many animal print shirts.
> 
> "I swear to God, Richie, are you completely incapable of dressing like an adult? This is supposed to be a classy affair," Eddie said, disapproving as he began to rifle through his suitcase.
> 
> "What's wrong with my pug shirt? Everyone likes pugs."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and lyrics from What's It Gonna Be by Shura.
> 
> I thought this chapter was going to be twice as long until I realised I'd not written Chapter Seven between them both and so I thought it was one continuous chapter.
> 
> I still think it's pretty long, but I hope you like it anyway! Prepare for some slight angst.
> 
> And because James Ransone has the actual definition of puppy dog eyes...
> 
> Also inspired by someone on tumblr saying they imagine Eddie would ping Richie's suspenders (I think it was a still from Barry).

_Do I tell you I love you or not?_  
_’Cause I can’t really guess what you want_  
_If you let me down, let me down slow_  
_If you let me down, let me down slow_  
_If you got feelings for me_  
_You just gotta speak honestly_

Eddie had been in charge of getting both their outfits for the wedding. Bev had informed them that it was a very small affair and as such, there would be no traditional wedding parties.

The only thing Richie was in charge of was packing his own bag for the three nights they would be staying and he couldn't even do that right as Eddie walked past his bedroom noticing that he'd packed way too many animal print shirts.

"I swear to God, Richie, are you completely incapable of dressing like an adult? This is supposed to be a classy affair," Eddie said, disapproving as he began to rifle through his suitcase.

"What's wrong with my pug shirt? Everyone likes pugs."

Eddie rolled his eyes before heading to the wardrobe to look through Richie's other shirts. The logical side of him knew that Richie was a grown adult and it was up to him if he wanted to end up looking like the weird uncle at a family summer barbecue, but Eddie couldn’t bring himself to let that happen.

Richie sat down on the bed, crossing his arms across his chest, watching Eddie rifle through his clothes.

A small smile graced Richie's lips as Eddie muttered to himself. "No... maybe... absolutely fucking not..."

Eventually, Eddie picked out three - what he deemed - suitable shirts and began folding them into the suitcase.

"You seriously need a new wardrobe," Eddie remarked as he began zipping up the case.

"Says the man who wears cardigans commonly found in nursing homes," Richie quipped.

Eddie stepped back and glared at Richie. "They are comfortable and at least they're fucking age appropriate!" he shouted.

"I love it when you're angry," Richie giggled.

Eddie could feel the tips of his ears burn. "Come on, we need to set off or we're going to be late."

Eddie whirled around to grab Richie's suitcase.

"Woah, there, I've got this," he said, as Eddie began to carry it downstairs.

"It's fine," Eddie replied.

"Eds, your scar. The doctor said no heavy lifting. Don't bust it open before we've even got there. Please?"

Eddie turned to see a pleading look on Richie's face, his hand extended to take the bag. Eddie nodded and handed over the bag before picking up their hand luggage to take out.

After that, Richie gathered Eddie's bag from his room, slung his jacket over his shoulder and headed out.

"All set," Richie said, sliding into the passenger seat and pulling his seat belt around his middle. “Lead the way, Eduardo.”

\---

It took them eight hours in total, arriving at the hotel at 6:45pm. They'd stopped at a small diner to replenish although Eddie didn't eat much, too concerned with the hygiene standards behind the counter. They entered the hotel doing what they did best.

"If you could pack a fucking suitcase properly, we would have been on time," Eddie seethed, marching up to the reception.

"I think you'll find, Eddie Spaghetti, that it was your twenty minute lecture to the poor undeserving waiter at the diner on proper food hygiene," Richie sighed, exasperated.

"You-" Eddie started, jabbing his finger into Richie's chest.

"They're like an old married couple," Mike's voice broke through their argument.

"Haven't they always been?" Stan chuckled at his side.

Eddie's expression looked mortified as Richie turned, pulling the other two into an embrace.

"Yeah, except Eddie won't let me put a ring on it," Richie said.

"Fuck you, Richie." Eddie made his way over to the others to hug them too.

"Where are the others?" Eddie asked Mike over his shoulder.

"They're already at the restaurant except us and Bill," Stan said. "We were just heading out when we saw you two."

Richie had begun speaking to the receptionist as Eddie told Stan and Mike they'd catch them up.

As Eddie walked over to Richie, Richie turned around and met him half way. "We have a problem," Richie said.

"What?"

A slight flush began to tinge his cheeks as he said, "They've given us a double room."

Eddie's eyes widened. "Are you fucking kidding me? Don't they have any other rooms available?"

Richie scrunched up his face and shook his head.

"Fuck," Eddie said.

"Well, we've shared a bed before," Richie half attempted a smile.

"Yeah, but that was different." Eddie tried to avoid Richie's gaze if only because he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about how it felt being next to him.

"Shall I see if we can stay at another hotel?" Richie asked, sounding slightly dejected.

Eddie looked at Richie's furrowed brow and noticed the sadness in his eyes.

"Get over yourselves and share the damn bed!" Bill shouted as he walked past heading towards the revolving door. "See you guys there!"

"Nice to see you too dipshit!" Eddie yelled back.

\---

They managed to get ready in a record fifteen minutes making them twenty five minutes late to the restaurant.

Eddie had changed into a grey sweater and black trousers whilst Richie wore a dark navy blue short sleeved shirt with jeans.

When Richie had stepped out from the bathroom, Eddie's breath caught in his throat. Eddie couldn't help but notice the way his shirt seemed to cling to his every muscle and all the way around his broad frame. He gulped at the thought as Eddie realised with a fierce certainty that he wanted to run his fingers over every curve and dip of his body.

"You ready?" Richie asked.

Eddie nodded, momentarily unable to speak.

"Are you okay?" Richie frowned, clasping his watch around his wrist.

"Yeah, just hungry. Let’s go."

\---

By the time they arrived, the others were all merrily on their third bottle of champagne already.

"_Third_ bottle? _Please_. Now I've arrived, the party can truly begin," Richie said on entrance.

All the others cheered and Eddie rolled his eyes. "Yeah, don't inflate his ego too much guys otherwise he won't be able to fit through the door."

Bev and Ben got out from their seats to come and say hello.

"Congratulations both although isn't it bad luck to see the bride the night before?"

Bev squeezed him back. "I did all that with my ex and look at how that turned out."

"Besides," Ben interrupted, pulling back from Eddie, "after everything we've all been through, I think we can handle anything that gets thrown at us. We are, however, sleeping in separate rooms tonight."

"Haha!" Richie exclaimed. "I knew Ben wouldn't be able to let go of tradition."

Ben glanced down looking sheepish.

"Hey, can you swap with me tonight? Otherwise I'm going to have to share with this asshole," Eddie asked Ben.

Ben laughed, sharing a look with Bev. "Sorry guys, but I need my rest for tomorrow."

"You're getting married, not climbing fucking Everest. Bev?"

"Sorry, I'm with Ben on this one." She looked at him giving him a sly smile.

Richie rolled his eyes. "Of course you are."

Richie pulled a chair out for himself and Eddie, then everyone seated.

The waiter came and took all their orders.

"So, how has everyone been?" Bill asked once the waiter had walked away.

"Well, living with Mrs K. as I'm sure you can imagine is an absolute riot, in fact, Eddie once walked in on us in the middle of-"

"Richie, I swear to God if you say something like that again, I will throw this fucking champagne in your face."

"What are you, twelve?"

"You wanna try me, asshole?"

The others were silently laughing around the table, sharing updates in their lives like Mike’s newfound love of travelling and Bill’s completed new book with an actual decent ending, and reminiscing whilst eating and slugging back copious amounts of alcohol or, at least, Richie was.

At around ten o' clock, they all headed back to the hotel, Eddie attempting to hold Richie up as they stumbled into the elevator and said bye to the others, letting them know that they'd see them in the morning.

Eddie couldn't understand how, but he managed to fish the hotel key out of Richie's pocket despite him squirming and open the door.

He lowered Richie onto the bed who collapsed onto it, giggling about nothing in particular.

Eddie was about to undress and get ready for bed when Richie grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him down.

Eddie ended up twisted, his lower body on the bed, his arm and chest resting over Richie's. Eddie noticed with clear focus that his hand had immediately gripped onto Richie's bicep. He could feel the taut muscle underneath and his fingers itched to squeeze and _feel_.

His eyes moved from where his fingers touched his arm to his chest, the firmness of it resting against Eddie's own. He could feel his heart beating fiercely against his.

When he finally brought his eyes to look up at Richie, he noticed such a tenderness there that it shocked him into speaking. "Richie."

Richie giggled and he threw his head back, exposing his neck just like he did in the Chinese restaurant. "Has anyone ever told you that you look like a puppy dog?" Richie asked.

"You could just say puppy. We all know they're dogs, but no, I can't say anyone has," Eddie whispered, his voice threatening to give out.

Richie bit his lower lip and then flicked his tongue out to lick it and it took all of Eddie's resolve not to lean down and capture it between his own.

"I mean like," Richie continued, "his eyes scanning all over Eddie's face, "you have these really fucking cute puppy dog eyes that could persuade a man to do anything."

The scent of alcohol mixed with something quintessentially Richie made Eddie's stomach do flips and Richie's eyes momentarily glanced at Eddie's lips and _oh, fuck_.

"Anything?"

Richie nodded, a guttural sound escaping from his throat making his Adam's apple bob.

Eddie gulped, then a knock at the door sounded and Eddie swore that he had never been as angry as he was in that very second.

Eddie reluctantly moved from his place on the bed, immediately missing the heat from Richie.

He opened the door and there stood Mike holding Eddie's wallet.

"You forgot this," he said, waving it in front of him.

"No shit, Mike," he said, grabbing the item from him. "Thanks a lot," he continued although he didn't sound too grateful.

Mike's eyes widened. "Are you okay?"

Eddie sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine. We were just getting ready for bed."

Mike narrowed his eyes, but didn't ask any more questions. Eddie felt a pang of guilt for snapping at him. "Sorry, Mike... just... er... thanks."

"No problem, see you tomorrow."

When Eddie turned back around hoping to continue wherever they were headed, he noticed that Richie had fallen asleep. _Fuck_.

Powered by frustration, Eddie finally managed to manoeuvre Richie onto one side of the bed, enabling him to climb into the other and Eddie fell asleep dreaming about firm arms and endearing smiles.

\---

When Eddie awoke, he noticed that at some point during the night he had scooted closer to Richie and his hand had curled around his hip.

He froze, unable to take his eyes off where his fingers met the soft fabric of Richie's shirt. He could feel the heat from his body on the palm of his hand.

Eddie wondered if Richie was already awake, but the gentle breathing he heard from him told Eddie otherwise. Eddie became so preoccupied thinking about the implications of moving and not moving his hand, he failed to notice that Richie had stopped making any sound.

It was only when Richie slowly turned his head that Eddie retrieved his hand like he'd been burned. Richie rolled all the way around to look at him, blinking sleepy eyes open.

"Morning, Eds," Richie said, voice laced with sleep.

Richie sat up slightly and felt around his bedside table for his glasses.

"Fuck, my head," Richie groaned, flopping back down onto the bed throwing his arm across his face.

"That's because you drank at least two full bottles of champagne. Stop being so melodramatic."

Eddie got out of bed and was on his way to the bathroom when Richie said, "Eds?" his voice slightly muffled by his arm.

"Yeah?"

"We didn't run into a dog last night, did we?"

"No, why?"

"Because I can't stop thinking about puppies."

His words from last night came back in perfect clarity, Eddie's cheeks feeling hot. "I'm going to take a shower."

When Eddie exited the bathroom, Richie had managed to sit up against the headboard, but still looked marginally frazzled. His eyes were looking straight ahead and a frown appeared on his brow.

Eddie sighed. "I'm going downstairs for a minute. Be right back."

Eddie came back ten minutes later with a full breakfast, a glass of water and some painkillers. "Okay, eat this, take that with water, and then have a shower."

Richie groaned. "I'm so not ready for food."

"Do you really want to be the one who ruins Ben and Bev's wedding with a fucking hangover?"

Richie paused to think. "No."

"Well, then, do as I say and you'll be fine."

"You're bossy," Richie said, lifting himself a little further up so he could take the tray from Eddie. "If I eat this will you stop guilt tripping me?"

"Will you actually start listening to me?" Eddie asked, giving him his best mom tone.

Richie rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. Thank you."

"God, you're like a petulant child. I'm going to finish getting ready."

Eddie wandered back into the bathroom and proceeded to finish his dental hygiene routine, shave, get dressed and add his cufflinks.

When he walked back into the bedroom, Richie was finishing his glass of water.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, doing up his tie.

Richie paused for a second before swallowing. "Um, yeah, I'm good. Feeling much better, thanks, but _fuck_ these are strong. Where'd you get these from?"

"The pharmacy. My mom used to give them to me when I was in pain or... when she _thought_ I was in pain. Never knew whether they actually worked or not, but I'm glad they did. Anyway, I'm done. Bathroom is all yours."

Richie continued to stare at him for what felt like an age, Eddie could feel his skin burning up under his gaze until Richie cleared his throat and climbed out of bed. He began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Richie, what are you doing?"

"Relax, Eddie Spaghetti, it's nothing you've not seen before," he said, removing it and throwing it at Eddie.

"Do you _mind_?" Eddie asked, feeling flustered.

Richie merely laughed as he closed the bathroom door.

Eddie made a split-second decision to make himself scarce whilst Richie got ready as he didn't think he could take seeing a partially naked Richie so he thought he would check in on Bev.

He took the elevator down to her floor and knocked briefly.

"Who is it?" she shouted.

"It's Eddie."

A moment later the door opened and Eddie smiled. Bev was dressed in a pale pink gown, her hair in waves, half of them pinned at the back.

"You look like a fucking Disney princess," Eddie beamed.

Bev laughed and ushered him in.

"I'm serious, you look beautiful."

"Aw, Eddie, thanks. What brings you down here anyway? The ceremony starts in a bit."

Eddie hadn't prepared a response for this question and all he could think about was a naked Richie in the fucking shower a few floors above, so he averted his eyes in case Bev could see his embarrassment. "I was just, um, giving Richie some privacy."

Bev looked concerned at him. "Eddie, are you sure there's not something going on between you two?"

Eddie looked up so fast it made his head spin. "What do you mean? We're fucking friends! Why would you think anything different?" Eddie accused.

Bev held her hands up in surrender. "Woah, okay, I was just asking! No need to get upset." She took his hands in hers.

"I'm not upset, I just..."

"What?"

Eddie's lips pressed into a line. "I don't know, but things have been weird."

"How?"

"I..." Eddie thought about telling her about the drunken incident, Richie coming out to him, Eddie getting a divorce and not understanding why Richie was getting under his skin, but he knew this wasn't the place. "I can't, Bev. This is yours and Ben's day and I can't encroach on that."

"Sure, okay, but you're telling me after."

"Thanks, Bev," he smiled, pulling her into a hug.

"No problem."

Eddie headed back upstairs telling Bev he would see her shortly. They had around an hour left before the ceremony began.

When Eddie got back to the room, Richie was stood in front of the long mirror fingering his suspenders. “What do you think, Eds?” he asked, spinning around. “Do you think I look like Don Draper?”

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t know who that is, but I can’t believe you’re wearing suspenders. What are we in, the 1950s?”

“Hey, I never said a thing about your tie.”

“What’s wrong with my tie?”

“Donald Duck called and he wants it back.”

Eddie’s expression moved from humoured to angry in nought-point-two seconds and he walked up to Richie, slipping his fingers under the suspenders and snapping them.

A smile came back to his lips as he watched the shocked expression on Richie’s face. So he did it again.

“Eds,” Richie warned.

And again, and again… each time working lower down the straps until Richie grabbed hold of his hands and held them out to the side.

Eddie’s breath came, short and wavering, his heart beating forcefully against his chest. He couldn't determine whether Richie looked as though he wanted to devour him - his eyes dark and hungry - or whether he wanted to kiss him. Eddie couldn't decide which he'd prefer and holy shit _where did that come from?_

Another moment passed, Eddie's eyes chancing a quick glance at Richie's lips and, _oh fuck._

It was like all the memories from the previous night came flooding back to Richie in a torrent of emotions as several passed across his face simultaneously and the next words out of his mouth were, “I told you your eyes were like a puppy,” Richie whispered.

“Yeah,” Eddie croaked.

Richie’s throat bobbed when he swallowed and Eddie’s gaze flicked to it as Richie glanced at Eddie’s lips.

The next movement happened so fast Eddie didn’t have time to think. Richie let go of one of his hands and pulled him closer by his waist, their bodies flush together. Then Richie leant down capturing his lips between his. A small moan elicited from the back of Eddie’s throat and although every fibre of his being wanted to deepen the kiss, the feeling overwhelmed him, so he pulled away.

“Rich,” he managed to say, breathless.

“Shit,” Richie said, moving away toward the door, grabbing his jacket on the way.

“Rich!” Eddie called after him, but Richie had already slammed the door behind him.

Eddie sat down on the edge of the bed and fell back, berating himself. His lips still tingled from where Richie had kissed him and he wanted to cry. Not only did the past few months finally make sense – the way Eddie felt near him and how he felt when Richie touched him – he’d made Richie think that his feelings were unrequited, and that’s when the guilt set in.

Eddie wanted nothing more than to retreat back into his turtle’s shell, but checking his watch he realised that his newfound realisation would have to be dealt with later.


	7. Your Lips for Food, Your Skin for Sheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ceremony had been wonderful. Richie reckons all of the losers cried apart from Bill, but figured his own tears were more to do with the rejection he'd experienced at the hands of Eddie. Why had he been so _stupid_? He knew he should have never have said anything even when Eddie asked. He should have avoided it. Nothing good was going to come from being open and honest. It would only lead to getting hurt.
> 
> The alcohol sat there, tempting him, and he so wanted to get drunk again until he couldn't feel anymore. It had been bad enough telling Eddie he had puppy dog eyes let alone fucking kissing him, but he thought he'd seen something there, something akin to his own feelings mirrored in Eddie's eyes, but Richie had obviously been wrong. Fucking hell, he couldn't even trust his own judgement anymore, so he downed another glass of wine to dull the realisation.
> 
> He shook his head and saw Eddie making his way over to him, and he downed another one before quickly walking off in the other direction, but he was ambushed by Bill.
> 
> "I think you should lay off the alcohol," he whispered to Richie, squeezing his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and lyrics from Blinder by the Hour by The Triffids.
> 
> I think this is the longest chapter so far, so I hope you enjoy. Inspired by Bill Hader saying that if Richie had made the first move it would have been the best thing ever.

_You bundle me tight in your overcoat_   
_With the damn-all we said and the damn-all we wrote_   
_In the stillness of breath, in the dampness of walls_   
_Press air from my lips slap me once or twice_   
_I know your secret delight in vice_

The ceremony had been wonderful. Richie reckons all of the losers cried apart from Bill, but figured his own tears were more to do with the rejection he'd experienced at the hands of Eddie. Why had he been so _stupid_? He knew he should have never have said anything even when Eddie asked. He should have avoided it. Nothing good was going to come from being open and honest. It would only lead to getting hurt.

The alcohol sat there, tempting him, and he so wanted to get drunk again until he couldn't feel anymore. It had been bad enough telling Eddie he had puppy dog eyes let alone fucking kissing him, but he thought he'd seen something there, something akin to his own feelings mirrored in Eddie's eyes, but Richie had obviously been wrong. Fucking hell, he couldn't even trust his own judgement anymore, so he downed another glass of wine to dull the realisation.

He shook his head and saw Eddie making his way over to him, and he downed another one before quickly walking off in the other direction, but he was ambushed by Bill.

"I think you should lay off the alcohol," he whispered to Richie, squeezing his shoulder.

"You know what they say, the best cure for a hangover is another drink," he nearly all but shouted.

"Come on, Rich. Don't be the douchebag who ruins a wedding because he's had one too many."

Bill gave him a pleading look and Richie nodded.

"No wonder you were in charge. Everybody fucking listens to you."

Bill laughed as Richie reached over to grab a non-alcoholic spritzer.

\---

Eddie felt his eyes burn as tears threatened to form as he saw Richie turn on his heel and walk in the opposite direction.

Eddie knew they needed to talk about the kiss, just like it was up to him after Richie came out and Eddie didn’t know how to act. He did _now_, only Eddie was struggling to even get near him to make this okay.

The music and laughter all got too much, a headache forming, so he kept his head down and moved into one of the vacant rooms to collect himself.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Stan walked in.

"Oh," he said. "I wasn't aware this room was occupied."

"It's okay, you can stay."

Stan hovered in the doorway cradling his drink between his fingers. "You okay?"

Eddie paused, staring at the floor. "I think I like Richie."

Stan's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "I was not expecting you to say that, but I can't say I'm surprised."

Eddie’s head whipped up. "You fucking _knew_? Why didn't you say anything?"

"It had to be something you figured out yourself, Eddie," Stan responded, matter-of-factly.

Eddie sighed, clasping his hands together in front of him. Stan stepped forward and took a seat next to Eddie. He thought Stan might think he meant platonically, but his perspicacious gaze said otherwise.

"Have you talked to him?" Stan asked.

"We-" Eddie remembered that none of the others knew about Richie and he'd already messed things up enough. He couldn't out him too. "I kissed him."

"Huh. I guess that's why Richie's walking around like someone stole all his good jokes."

Eddie took one look at Stan and they both burst out laughing.

After a moment, Stan spoke. "I wouldn't have thought Richie would have reacted like this. I would have thought he'd have come back with some retort about you wishing he was interested in you."

"Yeah, I guess I read the situation wrong." Eddie lied. He hated lying. It made his stomach feel like he was on a rocky ride up a hill on a full stomach.

"I don't think you did," Stan frowned, but before he could elaborate the door opened and Mike popped his head around.

"I wondered where you two were. I know why Stan's in here, but what's up with you, Eddie?"

"This is the subdivision of the losers club and we're the only two welcome."

"He kissed Richie," Stan replied, standing up.

Eddie glared at him. "Do you _mind_ not advertising it?"

Mike had the exact same expression as Stan, then said, "I guess that explains why Richie's moping around. The speeches are about to start anyway."

They all walked back into the main hall and took their seats at the table.

\---

"First of all, I'd just like to say thank you to everyone for coming tonight," Ben started, giving rise to a round of cheers.

Ben looked down, his cheeks turning a little pink. "So, I first met Bev when I was in school. I... erm..."

"Tell us about the poem!" Mike yelled.

Ben blushed furiously, smiling down at his plate. "Yeah, I wrote Bev a poem except she liked my friend, Bill, at the time." He indicated Bill with his free hand and all the room laughed and 'oohed' in amusement. Bill shook his head trying to cover his face with his hand, but Mike removed it.

"I was in love with her from the start, but I didn't think she would be interested."

Richie rolled his eyes as if it would make his stomach settle down, and guzzled down some more spritzer.

"I said go easy on the alcohol, but that doesn't mean you can drink the entire lot of spritzer too," Bill whispered, arms crossed.

Richie 'sshed' him turning his attention back to Ben. He felt heavy like a lead weight had settled itself in the pit of his stomach.

"It wasn't until we became reacquainted earlier this year that I discovered she _did_ feel the same." He looked at her like she hung the moon and she _glowed_.

"So, I just want to say to anyone out there who feels undeserving of love or who is frightened," at this part he looked particularly at Richie and if he didn't know any better he would wear it was intentional.

Ben continued, "Just give it a chance. You never know what will happen."

Richie wanted to shrivel into a ball and never see the light of day again. "Yeah, you'll get a fucking mouthful of rejection," he muttered to himself, deciding the non-alcoholic drinks weren't going to cut in anymore and he picked up a glass of wine and downed that.

Bev got out of her seat and kissed Ben, the entire room cheering.

Richie could feel Eddie looking at him throughout the entire speech, his gaze felt weighted and it made Richie itch to leave.

He wasn't even in the mood to heckle Ben as he talked about this transformation from being a larger boy to every Brazilian soccer player rolled into one, so he settled back nursing another glass of wine after receiving a threatening glare from Bill.

\---

The evening passed in a blur of fleeting conversations, flowing alcohol and lively music, but Eddie had drunk as much as he could, spoken to as many people as he could manage in his self-pitying state and he was flagging. He just wanted to laugh with Richie, but he'd spent the last hour looking for him and he was nowhere to be seen.

He said goodnight to the others, giving Ben and Bev another hug before making his way back to their room.

When he got there he saw that Richie was already in bed, his suitcase packed at his side.

"Richie, are you awake?" he whispered.

Eddie wasn't sure he'd answer even if he was, but he figured it was worth a try, just in case.

His hand lingered on the door handle as he watched Richie's still form on the bed.

"Richie?" he tried again, but Richie didn't stir.

Eddie sighed a little too forcefully and began to get undressed. He climbed into bed next to Richie who was so far close to the edge of the bed that Eddie worried he would fall off.

He pulled the covers over him, then turned to look at Richie. He had his back to Eddie, his arms brought up under his chin, his dark curls stuck up in different directions.

Eddie rolled onto his side and lifted his hand up to smooth the curls down.

"Night, Rich," he whispered, turning over.

\---

When Eddie awoke, Richie wasn't there. He rolled over to check the time on his watch. 9:30am.

_Shit_. He remembered checkout was at half ten.

He scrambled out of bed and quickly headed to the bathroom. He managed to get ready quickly, pulling on his sweater and neatly packing his items into the suitcase. Eddie Kaspbrak did not rush unless it involved lepers, clowns or saving his best friend from the deadlights. 

The clock read 10:15am by the time he was done, and he dragged the rest of his belongings onto the landing before making his way downstairs.

When the elevator doors opened he noticed that they were all waiting for him to see one another off.

"You missed breakfast," Mike said, his eyes landing on Eddie.

Eddie searched for Richie who was stood behind Mike. "Why didn't you wake me?" he asked in as gentle a voice as he could muster.

"You looked so peaceful sleeping," Richie said, only meeting his eyes for the briefest of seconds. "I didn't want to disturb you."

Eddie wanted him to make some sort of joke about Sleeping Beauty or something, but... nothing.

Bill came up to him and threw an arm around him. "Stan had to leave early, but he told me to tell you that you didn’t read the situation wrong if that means something to you," he whispered in his ear.

Eddie nodded, gripping him back.

When Bill moved away, Bev walked up to him, taking hold of his arm and pulling him to the side.

"Hey, how are you feeling today?" she asked. "Did you manage to sort out whatever was bothering you yesterday?"

Eddie laughed. "Not quite."

"Did it have something to do with Richie acting like a buffoon yesterday?"

"Has Stan spoken to you?"

"No, why?"

Eddie shifted his gaze and when he didn't respond, Bev sighed.

"I swear you two haven't grown into adults at all in the past twenty-seven years. Eddie, whatever is going on with you two, don't overanalyse it, just... let it be."

"How can I when he's barely talking to me?" Eddie had difficulty keeping the waver out of his voice.

"He will," and she said it with such certainty that he made a promise never to doubt her again if she was right.

Everybody finished saying their goodbyes and then they began to disperse.

Richie loaded up the car and Eddie drove back.

The drive back home was silent and Eddie hated every minute. He tried to make conversation, offering a few light-hearted comments, but all he got was an unintelligible sound in response so he gave up. He missed Richie making jokes, poking fun at anything amusing they saw on the way. He missed their arguments over whose music they got to listen to and so Eddie had just listened to acoustic songs all the way home. He had tried to elicit a positive response by changing to Buddy Holly every now and then, but he never even acknowledged it and Eddie's heart sank.

When they were heading towards the diner they'd visited on the way there, Eddie had turned to Richie to ask if he was hungry, but when he'd responded with a 'not really' Eddie had continued on. He just wanted to get home. _Home_. Peculiar how his home of fifteen years felt less like the house he'd shared with Richie for a few months. Eddie had a feeling that was more to do with Richie than the house itself. Fuck it, he _knew_ it. Richie had always felt like home to him.

Eddie's heart began to swell at the thought and beat against his chest rapidly. He blinked, the road in front moving from clear to a blur in quick succession. His hand tried to reach for the stick, but he couldn't recall doing it.

"Richie, I don't feel so good," he slurred, unsure if he'd actually spoken the words or had merely thought them until the muffled voice of Richie saying 'pull over _now_' reached his ears before he blacked out.

\---

When Eddie came to, he felt the gravel on his back and cool breeze on his skin before he opened his eyes to see Richie's concerned face staring at him.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," he said.

Eddie blinked his eyes to refocus, noticing his head was propped up on something.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. One minute you were driving, the next you were saying how you didn't feel good and seemed to dip in and out of consciousness."

"Shit."

“What?”

“I completely missed breakfast this morning and didn’t have time for anything to drink either. My blood pressure must have dropped.”

Richie paused, appearing to think. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Richie left Eddie’s limited view from lying on the floor and returned around twenty minutes later carrying a bag.

“There was a food truck a few yards back. Now, I know this doesn’t meet the high standards of one Edward Kaspbrak, but could you make an exception this once for me?” he pleaded, holding out a burger with fries.

Eddie eyed the burger with distaste, but he didn’t exactly have a pick of options, so he nodded and moved to a sitting position.

“There he is,” Richie said giving Eddie the most ridiculous beaming smile he’d ever witnessed that caused Eddie’s stomach to do somersaults.

Eddie took the burger from Richie and took a bite. “I can practically taste the cholesterol.”

“Ingrate,” Richie smiled, leaning back against the car and eating his own.

Eddie polished off the burger with relish, wiping his fingers on the napkin.

“Thanks, Rich.”

“No problem. How was it?”

“Not as bad as I’d imagined, but I will have to drink about five gallons of filtered water just to flush it all out.”

“I think I have just the thing,” Richie confirmed, dipping his hand into the bag and pulling out several bottles of water. “And there are more where that came from.”

A sentiment consisting of three words sat on the edge of Eddie’s tongue, but all he managed was ‘I’ before he realised this wasn’t the time. He was looking at Richie with an expression that was utterly adoring. “You’re amazing,” Eddie finished, taking one of the bottles and having a swig.

“I know. Your mom has told me enough times.”

Eddie lowered the bottle from his lips to glare at Richie, but his chest betrayed him, swelling with warmth. He couldn’t bring himself to retaliate when it appeared their relationship was returning to normal and he smiled.

\---

Richie drove the rest of the way home. He was still mortified beyond belief, but his best friend passing out was enough for him to pull his head out of his ass and step up to be what Eddie needed.

He couldn’t touch him for longer than necessary now though or flirt like he had been doing. Hell, he couldn’t even give him a compliment without feeling squeamish like Eddie would vault for good if he said something that could be misinterpreted.

Richie wondered if it would be too painful to be around Eddie just as friends, but his stomach sank at the thought. He knew without a doubt that he would rather have him as a friend than not at all.

They pulled up in front of the house around forty-five minutes later. Richie insisted on carrying everything himself, leaving Eddie to open the door.

“Do you… want to get take-out tonight and watch a movie?” Eddie asked hesitantly.

Richie’s heart clenched as he heard reticence in Eddie’s voice and guilt gripped him in a vice. It was easy to block the guilt out when he had shut down his emotions, but when he came around it came seeping in like liquid once the wall had broken down.

“Sure, Eds. Whatever you want,” he managed a weak smile.

They spent the afternoon unpacking, doing laundry and making sure everything was put away and tidy. The radio played softly in the background, Richie singing along loudly and Eddie smirking to himself.

“You’re going to shatter the windows if you carry on,” Eddie said.

“I’ll have you know people actually come specifically to hear my dulcet tones,” Richie enlightened him.

“No, they just come to heckle your shitty jokes.”

Richie looked up, reminded of the way Eddie insisted he had known Richie didn’t write his own material when they were leaving the Chinese restaurant all those months ago.

“Hey, Eds. How did you know I didn’t write my own material?” he asked, taking a sip of his freshly brewed coffee.

Eddie looked down and began fiddling with the zipper on his hoodie, his cheeks flushing slightly.

_Do not read into this, Tozier. He doesn’t like you in that way_.

Richie squeezed his eyes against the voice in his head and when he opened them Eddie was still looking down.

“I didn’t know. Not really…” he paused and laughed. “It’s weird. I mean, I remember Myra being out at her book club and I was stuck at home trying to meet this deadline. It was late and I wasn’t even half way done, so I thought I’d put the TV on for a distraction and Comedy Central was there, a channel Myra never would have let me watch if she’d have been there. Too crude for her taste.”

“Too crude for you too.”

Eddie smiled, then continued. “It was like I felt this pull to it like a magnet and when the screen loaded it was this guy named Richie Tozier.”

“And what did you think about this Richie Tozier?” Richie asked, unable to keep the flirtatious tone out of his voice.

“That he was an asshole.” Richie laughed raucously.

“There was something familiar about you like I’d seen you somewhere before. Not on TV, but in person. The jokes seemed off like I knew your sense of humour and I kept thinking you’d look real good in a Hawaiian shirt and every time you said something a little too far I’d say ‘beep, beep, asshole’. That phrase was something I’d not recalled saying before.” He paused again, thinking. “The jokes weren’t personal either and I could relate to that seeing as I had gaps where my childhood was.”

“Anyway, even though I didn’t like the jokes, I continued to watch you.” His voice became quiet. “There was something so…” he trailed off.

“Captivating? Compelling? Amazing?” he tried to find the word to fit the gap, trying to head Eddie off before he could say something crushing.

“Familiar, and I wanted to figure out why. I never did until I came here.”

“Well, thanks for single-handedly keeping me in business, Eds.”

“Shut up, asshole. You’d need more than me to keep you in business.”

“Ever the risk analyst.”

Richie tried to ignore the warmth that invaded his chest at the thought of Eddie watching his videos and comedy shows and he started to wonder again whether he could cope with this. With settling for just being Eddie’s friend now that his secret was out of the bag, but then he remembered he’d spent twenty-seven years being repressed, so what was another thirty more?

\---

“I am never eating pizza again,” Richie groaned, clutching his stomach.

“Yeah, I think they added way too much cheese.”

“You can never have enough cheese. I think it was the dough.”

“No shit.” Richie giggled.

The movie ended a while ago, the TV now a blank screen, the empty pizza boxes strewn haphazardly across the table.

“I think I’m going to bed,” Richie said, hoisting himself into a sitting position. “I’ll deal with this in the morning. Night, Eds.”

“Goodnight.”

Eddie watched as Richie made his way sluggishly up the stairs, running a hand through his hair and stifling a yawn simultaneously.

Eddie smiled as the lanky form moved from view and waited until he heard Richie clamber into bed, silence descending around him save for the clock ticking in the kitchen.

He gathered all the boxes together and took them into the kitchen before dismantling them so they’d fit in their recycling bin.

He wasn’t tired yet and his mind was still alert, so he settled himself into the nook of the sofa and flicked the TV back on, landing on a nature documentary, but his mind wasn’t focused on it, drifting.

He had known his feelings for Richie ran deeper than friendship since he was a kid, but he hadn’t put a name to them until he was much older. Instead of embracing them, however, he squashed them down as far as they would go, his mother’s voice ringing in his ears. He was scared.

There were moments when Eddie thought Richie liked him and Eddie had _willed_ him to make a move, but when he didn’t, Eddie had squashed his feelings for Richie into the deep recesses of his brain, then later that year they had all started to disperse, scattered across the different states like dandelion seeds and Eddie had felt the little confidence he had disperse along with them.

As he became an adult, he spent the majority of time attempting to break free from the shackles of his mother, but his attempts were thwarted. She would always find some excuse for why he needed to stay or for a job that needed carrying out. Then when he had tried to explore this visceral feeling he got when he saw the shirtless mechanic who worked just down the road, his mother seemed to just _know_ \- if he let his gaze linger just a fraction too long or if she saw him speaking to him and laughing for longer than a minute she would call him back in saying she needed help with something.

The first time he had attempted to be brave, he had bought a bus ticket to the only gay bar in town, his mother had started to make offhand comments about said bars and new viruses that could lead to permanent sickness, but wasn’t Eddie already permanently sick according to his mother? So, he had ripped the ticket up and stayed put wondering if this was just the way things had to be. Then his mother began talking about one of the new girls at her local women’s group saying she thought they’d get along, so he had bottled everything up and married this girl who turned out to be exactly like his mother just like she wanted. It was much easier to succumb to her every whim because he didn’t have the mental fortitude to deal with her antics anymore.

Until he was speared by a damn clown claw that is and he made the conscious decision not to compromise his happiness again. These feelings were something he had hidden a long time ago and being around Richie had just brought it back to the surface becoming hard to ignore. It would take some time to undo all the years of conditioning by his mother and Myra, but he felt that with Richie and the other losers by his side he could do it.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Ben’s speech about taking chances and not giving up and how Bev had told him to focus on his feelings like she _knew_.

With his newfound confidence, or maybe it was the lateness of the night, he turned the TV off and headed upstairs straight to Richie’s room.

He opened the door gently, a sliver of light from the landing bathing Richie in a glow. He was laid on his back, one arm above his head, the other on his stomach. His mouth was slightly open and his glasses were skewed slightly on his face.

Eddie smiled and had to ground himself to stop from jumping on him.

He closed the door with a quiet click and padded over to the other side of the bed, lifting the covers and sliding into the warmth. He laid on his back, looking at the ceiling and listening to the soft snores of the man next to him.

“Hey, Richie?” Eddie whispered into the dark.

Richie continued to snore, so Eddie tried again, this time a little louder. “Richie?”

Richie snorted, then made a garbled ‘huh’ sound shifting his position. Eddie knew that Richie had opened his eyes when he felt him scramble to a sitting position quickly.

“What the fuck man?” Richie asked, lowering himself back down when he was satisfied it was Eddie.

Eddie watched Richie blink his eyes, adjusting to the room. “Sorry, Rich. I wanted to talk to you.”

“It’s 2am. Can’t it wait?”

Eddie didn’t respond and Richie sighed. “Well, you’re here now, so what do you want to talk about.”

“The hotel.”

Eddie felt Richie stiffen at his side of him, so Eddie reached out and brushed his fingers against his hand, but Richie pulled away.

“Eddie…” his voice sounded thick.

“Just give me your fucking hand, asshole.”

A moment passed and he began to think that Richie wasn’t going to do it until he felt a hesitant hand wrap around his. Eddie turned it around, interlocking their fingers together and he could hear Richie’s breath hitch at his side. Eddie gulped.

“When we were younger, you always used to tease me, but then other times you could be… nice?” Eddie began.

“I have my moments.”

“Shut up. It’s hard to know when you’re being serious when you’re telling me you fucked my mom every two seconds.”

“Yeah, she misses me.”

“Will you shut up?”

“Sorry.”

“I remembered realising at sixteen that what I felt for you went beyond friendship, but I didn’t understand it. My mom instilled this fear in me that it was something _to_ fear. The other losers sometimes said that you liked me and I wanted to believe them, but you never made a move, so I assumed they were wrong.”

“Eddie…”

“It’s okay, I get it. If you had made a move though, it would have been the best thing ever. I would have felt braver. Maybe you would have too, but you never did and if it wasn’t with you I didn’t care. I just wanted to be… normal, so I did all the things I was supposed to do – get a good job, a _wife_, but it made me miserable and I thought that was maybe how things were supposed to be, you know. Until I came back here.” He paused. “I always wanted to be close to you and never knew why.” He felt Richie’s body still at his side and turned to look at him. “Are you still breathing?”

“Barely.” Richie exhaled on a laugh.

Eddie untangled their hands and turned onto his side to face him properly. He lifted a hand to Richie’s cheek and turned his head gently indicating for Richie to do the same.

A few moments later he did, mirroring Eddie’s body language, one hand tucked under the pillow, the other clenched underneath his chest.

Eddie could see Richie’s eyes in the darkness, glistening, and Eddie’s heart rate began to speed up at the close proximity, but he couldn’t lose his gall now.

He took a deep breath and continued. “I’ve never really felt much when I’ve been with other people. It’s always been more of a means to an end, so when you kissed me, it was…” Eddie trailed off trying to think of the right word.

“Electrifying?” Richie offered after a moment. “Scintillating? Magnetic?”

Eddie thought back to how it felt. How when Richie’s lips touched his it was like a spark had ignited. “Yeah,” he answered.

“Oh,” Richie said, stunned.

“But can you let me finish a fucking sentence by myself?”

“Sorry,” Richie said, but he was grinning.

“It was overwhelming, but in a really good way. I could feel your stubble on my cheek, the way your body was pressed against me-“

Richie groaned. “Do you realise how sexy you sound right now? You’re _killing_ me. What is your point, _please_, I beg you?”

“I want you to kiss me again,” Eddie said, glancing down briefly before meeting Richie’s eyes again.

“Is this a dream? Am I dreaming?” Richie frowned, but his eyes shifted nervously around Eddie’s face.

“No, asshole, just… kiss me,” Eddie whispered.

It was like Richie’s bravado, his confidence was drained with that one sentence and when he spoke his voice came out choked. “Are you going to pull away? Because if this is some sort of trick, I don’t think I can-“

“No, Richie, I’m not,” Eddie’s voice was soft.

Richie hesitated before edging a little closer. Eddie could feel the heat of his gaze trailing a pattern around his face. His heart rate quickened as Richie brought a hand to cup his cheek, his thumb trailing across his cheeks, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Eddie. Richie’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and Eddie could feel Richie’s breath now, hot against his lips, his very skin alight with anticipation, then it happened. Light pressure applied to his lips tentatively as though he was afraid Eddie really would pull away. Richie did, scanning Eddie’s face for any sign of permission to continue.

When Eddie glanced at Richie’s lips, that seemed to be enough. Richie leaned back in, soft at first, his lips moving gently against Eddie’s, using his hand to cradle his jaw, then Richie slipped his tongue inside deepening the kiss and Eddie moaned, matching Richie’s rhythm, slow and sensual, and Eddie suddenly felt as though he’d spent the last twenty seven years in an impenetrable bubble for his body was responding viscerally.

When Richie made a guttural noise that vibrated through Eddie’s body, he decided enough was enough. He wanted to get _deeper_, closer and even when he rolled over, straddling Richie’s hips never breaking contact, it still wasn’t close enough.

Eddie’s hand travelled down feeling the hard plane of his chest, his other hand tangling in the soft strands of his hair, and it was like everything suddenly made sense.

Richie bit gently at Eddie’s lower lip and he whimpered, the sound going straight to Richie’s groin.

Richie pulled back, panting. “Fucking hell, Spaghetti, who knew you had it in you?”

Eddie chuckled. “I guess you bring out this side of me.”

“If I’d have known you had this side, I would have made a move _years_ ago,” he said, pressing another kiss to Eddie’s smiling lips.


	8. What a Feeling in my Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie awoke to the gentle sounds of Eddie’s breathing and began playing with the delicate strands of his hair. Richie glanced at his face - he looked so peaceful, but his eyebrows still pinched in the middle and Richie laughed to himself for even in sleep it seemed Eddie couldn’t let go of his frustration at the world.
> 
> Eddie’s hair was ruffled, the messiest he’d ever seen it and Richie if he was being quite frank… it was hot as _fuck_. It made him think of the night before - exploratory kisses, tangled hair, roaming hands, and if Eddie wasn’t curled across him right now he would wonder if it had been a dream.
> 
> Eddie stirred and opened his eyes, a momentary look of surprise on his face and Richie’s heart stopped for a second thinking Eddie might have regretted it, but when he smiled and said, “Good morning,” Richie’s heartbeat kick-started again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the last chapter aside from the epilogue next week, but I really hope you enjoy this!
> 
> Richie tries to learn to be open and Eddie provides some advice that I have been given this year, which is so obvious, but true. I've also been inspired by Schitt's Creek today more specifically Patrick and David hence the song used for this one.
> 
> Title and lyrics from Better Than Sunshine by Aqualung.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Let the rain fall I don’t care_  
_I’m yours and suddenly you’re mine_  
_Suddenly you’re mine_  
_And it’s brighter than sunshine_

Richie awoke to the gentle sounds of Eddie’s breathing and began playing with the delicate strands of his hair. Richie glanced at his face - he looked so peaceful, but his eyebrows still pinched in the middle and Richie laughed to himself for even in sleep it seemed Eddie couldn’t let go of his frustration at the world.

Eddie’s hair was ruffled, the messiest he’d ever seen it and Richie if he was being quite frank… it was hot as _fuck_. It made him think of the night before - exploratory kisses, tangled hair, roaming hands, and if Eddie wasn’t curled across him right now he would wonder if it had been a dream.

Eddie stirred and opened his eyes, a momentary look of surprise on his face and Richie’s heart stopped for a second thinking Eddie might have regretted it, but when he smiled and said, “Good morning,” Richie’s heartbeat kick-started again.

“Morning, Spaghetti,” he replied, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. He stroked his face and gazed in a state of wonder at the man before him. “You’re beautiful,” he said without thinking.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I probably have sleep in my fucking eye and I know for a fact I’m rocking bedhead right now.”

“Still beautiful,” Richie said, wondering why he hadn’t made a move earlier then remembering with a sickening melancholy why he _couldn’t_.

“Eddie…” Richie’s voice began to crack. Eddie continued to look at him. “You want to know why I didn’t make a move?”

Eddie shook his head. “”Rich, you don’t have to expl-“

“No, I want to,” Richie interrupted. Eddie paused before giving him a short nod, encouraging him to continue whilst drawing circles onto his chest with his fingers. “When we went to find our artefacts, I went back to the arcade.” Richie swallowed and closed his eyes against the memory. “I remembered playing a game with Bowers’ cousin. I liked him, wanted to continue playing, but Bowers saw us.” Richie felt tears began to burn the backs of his eyes and opened them. “He called me…” he paused. “He shouted slurs at me and chased me out of the arcade.”

“Richie.” Eddie’s voice was soothing, his ministrations never halting as Richie continued.

“As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t face coming out. Not at that time, or in this place. The name calling, the rejection…” Richie sniffled.

“You’re still scared,” Eddie observed.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

Eddie pressed a kiss to Richie lips, resting his forehead against his.

“It’s not just coming out though.” Richie took a deep breath, looking back at the ceiling. “I’ve loved you since I was thirteen and that was fucking _scary_ even _with_ fucking Pennywise. When you realise that that person is the love of your life and you don’t know if they feel the same or if they’d run away from you if they found out… I’m still fucking repressed because I’ve not dealt with all the shit I went through. If I could have just been open it might have been better and not as scary, but it’s too late now.”

Eddie moved his hand to Richie’s cheek and turned his head gently. “Richie, we’re not in school anymore. You don’t have to be scared. You can tell others. They’ll still love you.”

“What if they don’t?”

Without pausing for a second, Eddie replied, “Why don’t we call one of the losers? Take it slow, and if you don’t feel comfortable, you can just tell them about us.” He shrugged.

Richie smiled. “I think there’s always been an us, hasn’t there?”

Eddie smirked, but then his expression faltered, his voice becoming a whisper. “Yeah, but it’s changed now, hasn’t it? I mean, what are we? Are we still _just_ friends, friends with benefits, _together_, you know, a couple?” Eddie looked doubtful.

Richie shifted so his body was facing Eddie’s and lifted a hand to his cheek. “As much as I’ve enjoyed being your friend and as tempting as it is to be friends with benefits, I think ‘boyfriend’ sounds pretty fucking fantastic, don’t you agree?”

Eddie grinned, beaming. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course it is, dipshit, but I’ll have to break it off with Mrs. Kasp-“ Richie didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Eddie kissed him.

\---

Richie stared at the phone on the counter, Bev’s name looking back at him. “I don’t know if I can do this.” His fingers tapped nervously on the marble top.

“Of course you can.”

“What if they disown me?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “They’ve put up with so much shit from you over the years. If they haven’t disowned you by now over your terrible fucking jokes, then they aren’t going to.” Richie’s expression didn’t change, he was still biting his lower lip. Eddie sighed. “Look, you’ve got me here for support and if they don’t support you, it’s their loss,” he shrugged. “But I’ll be with you.”

Richie looked at Eddie, but still made no move to pick up the phone. Eddie sighed, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“What?”

“I’m going to tell you something that might help.”

Richie raised an eyebrow and Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose.

“At Ben and Bev’s wedding, when we weren’t talking, Stan found me on my own. He asked what was wrong and I told him I kissed you.” Richie’s eyebrows shot up. “He basically told me that he couldn’t believe it had taken me twenty-seven years.”

Richie giggled and Eddie realised that he would always be willing to humiliate himself for the man standing before him if it got him to smile again. “Man, I thought I was the obvious one! How’d I miss that?!”

“You were too busy fucking my mum.” Richie laughed manically, banging his fist on the table. “But Stan knew, so maybe the others did too.” Eddie rested his chin on his hand as Richie wiped at his eyes.

When Richie didn’t make a move to dial, his worried expression replacing the brief hilarity once again, Eddie walked around to stand next to Richie, picked up the phone, and turned to Richie. “Ready?” he asked.

“Not really, but-“

Eddie clicked dial and grabbed hold of Richie’s hand as he tried to pull away, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles, which seemed to relax him slightly.

After three rings, Bev picked up, her smiling face coming into view. “Hey guys!”

“Hey,” Eddie exclaimed. “You look like you’re having fun.”

“Yeah, we’re currently in Spain.” It looked as though she was sat on a balcony, her hair lit up in the afternoon sun.

“Spain, of course.” Richie rolled his eyes. “And why weren’t we invited?”

“You can come anytime, Ben knows the guy who owns the villa.”

“Of course he does.”

“Anyway, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Bev said, sitting back in her deckchair, her sarong flowing around her.

“Is Ben there?” Eddie asked. He could feel Richie’s leg jiggling next to him and squeezed his hand in support.

“Yeah, just a second.” She shouted him and a moment later he came into view, shirtless, crouching down at the side of Bev with a cocktail in hand.

“Hey, Rich. Eddie.” One tanned arm rested on the armrest of Bev’s chair as he took a sip from his drink.

“Seriously, Ben? You put us both to shame,” Richie said.

“If you’ve got it, flaunt it,” Bev smiled.

“You two are insufferable,” Richie muttered.

Eddie realised it was now or never and better to rip the band-aid off than draw it out unnecessarily. “Richie has something to tell you,” Eddie said, earning a glare from Richie.

Bev and Ben both stared expectantly. Eddie turned to Richie who looked at his lips and back up. “Can’t you tell them?” he whispered.

Eddie turned back to the phone, sighing. “So, there’s been a development…” Eddie started, lifting their joined hands in front of the camera.

Bev squealed and clapped her hands together triumphantly. “Finally!”

“We’re really pleased for you guys,” Ben smiled.

Richie paused. “So, you _knew_?”

“Are you kidding? We had to put up with you dancing around each other as kids and then again at the restaurant. It was painful. Good job we gave you a nudge.”

Eddie and Richie frowned. “A nudge? What do you mean?”

Bev and Ben exchanged a knowing look. “You remember the wedding? Well, the hotel didn’t mess up the rooms, we sort of just… switched your room to a double? Oh, and not forgetting Ben’s speech.”

Richie scoffed. “Yeah, _that_ wasn’t exactly hard to miss, but you thought giving us a double room would be a fucking _nudge_?”

“It got you together though, didn’t it?”

“Actually, that was all Eddie,” Richie grinned.

Eddie couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face. “Well, it definitely helped.”

“You’re both traitors,” Richie exclaimed dramatically, but when Eddie looked at him, he was smiling. He’d stopped squeezing Eddie’s hand so tightly now too.

“It was all Bill and Mike’s idea actually, so we can’t take full credit,” Bev admitted.

“Wait...” Richie said. “_They_ knew too?”

Bev nodded. “We all did. Should have made a bet.”

“You’re already rolling in it, what the fuck you need a bet for?”

Bev merely giggled. “We best get going anyway. Take care you two and don’t forget to invite us to the wedding!” Bev blew a kiss.

Eddie’s cheeks flushed, and he was rendered temporarily speechless, so Richie said bye for them and hung up.

Richie slipped an arm around Eddie’s waist and nuzzled his head into the crook of his neck, planting a kiss there.

“See? I told you it would be fine,” Eddie whispered, lifting his hand up to pat Richie’s cheeks.

Richie let out a long breath, heating up Eddie’s skin. Eddie shivered. “I know, thank you.”

“Now stop distracting me and let me make breakfast.” He pressed a kiss to his head and walked around the breakfast bar.

Richie peeled himself away and sat on the barstool as he watched Eddie gather all the ingredients for a full English breakfast before beginning to prepare everything. He was deft – why wouldn’t he be? This was _Eddie_, the man who patched up Ben after being hurt by Bowers, the man who painstakingly researched the risks of every activity before even considering engaging in it, and his expression was always the same – the little wrinkle in the middle of his brow, mouth in a tight line, his tongue peeking out between his lips. A wave of contentment washed over Richie and he thought he could get used to this.

Eddie looked up at him. “What?” he asked, cracking an egg into a bowl.

“I love you,” Richie replied.

Eddie wiped his hands on a towel, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, then walked around to Richie, spinning him around so he could settle inbetween Richie’s legs, lifting his chin with a finger so he could grace him with a deep kiss.

“I love you too.” Eddie rubbed his nose gently against Richie’s. “Now, can I actually make this damn breakfast or are you going to hold me hostage?”

“I look forward to having you as my housewife, Eduardo.” Richie playfully tugged at the drawstrings of Eddie’s pyjama pants.

“Fuck you,” Eddie responded and kissed him again briefly before turning back to the kitchen.

The sound of Richie’s laughter filled the air.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie watched Anna and Bobby playing with the building blocks in front of him, chin resting on his hand and staring at them with a look of concern. He gasped as Anna picked up one of the building blocks and brought it to her mouth.
> 
> “Please don’t chew on that, Anna. You’re going to give Uncle Eddie a heart attack,” he pleaded, removing the offending item from her mouth.
> 
> Richie walked into the room behind him, clutching a cup of coffee. “She’s not chewing on it, dipshit. She has no teeth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this is late! I was all set to upload it and then you wouldn't believe what happened... my notebook got trapped behind a radiator and we've only just managed to get it out because we couldn't find anything to remove it with.
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you like this!

Eddie watched Anna and Bobby playing with the building blocks in front of him, chin resting on his hand and staring at them with a look of concern. He gasped as Anna picked up one of the building blocks and brought it to her mouth.

“Please don’t chew on that, Anna. You’re going to give Uncle Eddie a heart attack,” he pleaded, removing the offending item from her mouth.

Richie walked into the room behind him, clutching a cup of coffee. “She’s not chewing on it, dipshit. She has no teeth.”

Eddie turned around to stand in front of him, feeling Richie’s free arm slip around his waist. “Yeah, but they’re covered in germs. They’ve been all over the floors and I am _not_ going to be cleaning those little fucking building blocks every day.”

“You clean everything _else_ everyday. What’s another set of building blocks to add to the list? Besides, you already clean the floors ri_dic_ulously often, so they should be fine,” he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of Eddie’s neck, a sigh leaving his lips at the contact.

“Fuck off,” he said absently.

“You know they’re never going to build up their immune system if you keep cleaning everything. I once knew a kid who would gather fluff from the arms of couches on his pacifier then tickle his nose with it.” Richie chuckled.

“Ugh, why?” Eddie grimaced, his nose scrunching up. “There’s dust mites and all sorts of things that could have gathered there.”

Richie shrugged. “I don’t know. He was a weird kid.”

“What time are the reservations?” Eddie asked, changing the subject.

“Seven thirty. Bev and Ben should be here around six to pick them up.”

Eddie and Richie spent the remainder of the afternoon playing with Anna and Bobby, so by the time Ben and Bev came to pick them up, a little later than intended, their living room looked like a day care centre: building blocks, stuffed animals and toy cars strewn everywhere.

They said their goodbyes, then Eddie hopped straight into the shower, washing his hair and shaving. Richie was still getting dressed by the time he was ready.

“Come on, Rich! We’re going to be late,” he said, checking his watch, which read 7:15pm.

Richie wandered into the room at that moment and Eddie’s breath caught in his throat. Richie was wearing a very similar suit to the one he wore for Bev and Ben’s wedding, complete with suspenders.

“You just look…” Eddie didn’t even finish his sentence, just wandered over to Richie, seized him by the suspenders and pulled him down to kiss him. “And I get to ping them all I want now,” he finished, snapping one of them for effect.

Richie giggled, taking hold of Eddie’s wrists. “Careful! You’ll crease my shirt!”

“Since when do you care about a wrinkled shirt?” Eddie frowned.

Richie placed a quick kiss on his lips before turning back to his outfit. “Sometimes it’s nice to look, you know… _not_ unkempt,” he said, averting his eyes sheepishly and turning to the mirror to tidy up his hair.

Eddie hadn’t seen Richie look sheepish since he came out three years ago, but before he had time to ponder it, Richie continued. “I’ve spent too much time around you, so now I _care_ about things like ironed shirts and fucking tidying up after myself.”

Eddie smirked. “Good to know I’ve been a good influence on you.

\---

They arrived at the restaurant at exactly seven thirty, much to Eddie’s relief, even though he was still a little agitated not getting there at _least_ ten minutes early.

“Evening, Scott,” Richie greeted the host.

“Good evening, Mr Tozier. Your table is ready if you’d like to follow me.”

He lead Richie and Eddie through the bustling restaurant to a small booth hidden towards the back. It was concealed by a deep red curtain and they were the only ones there.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Scott asked as they took their seats.

Richie pulled out the drinks menu and began to browse briefly before saying in a faux British accent, “Could we have a bottle of your finest red wine, please?”

Scott smirked. “Very well, sir. And for your date?” he asked, turning to face Eddie.

Richie looked at him with wide eyes, but didn’t say anything. Eddie smiled. “Could I just have a bottle of white wine, please?”

Scott scribbled on his little notepad and walked away. Then Richie let out a breath.

Eddie smiled at him. “I’m proud of you, Rich.”

Richie laughed. “Don’t get all sappy on me now, Eds. Save it for later,” he winked.

“Gross, Richie.” He wrinkled his nose. “I just meant about how far you’ve come. Just three years ago you were so scared to come out to the others. Now, you’re out to the _world_. I mean, I know the circumstances weren’t great, but you handled it with dignity and grace. Two words I never would have used to describe you, but here we are.” Eddie shrugged.

Richie gasped in mock horror. “Hey, I can be very refined, you know. Just look at me now.” He indicated to himself, flourishing his hands up and down his upper half.

“And not a single fuck has left your mouth.”

“Fuck.” Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Dammit, just… say it again.”

“Why?”

“You saying _fuck_ does things to me,” he grinned. Eddie blushed.

Scott returned with their drinks and took their orders for food, ordering in a hurry when they realised that they hadn’t even picked up the menus, but they ate whilst laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

Before they ordered dessert, Richie sat back clasping his trouser pockets. “Shit, have you brought your wallet?”

Eddie leaned over to check his left pocket. “Check your right,” Richie said, so Eddie did.

When Eddie turned back around, Richie was on one knee, his hands clutching a purple box that housed a plain silver band.

“Edward Kaspbrak, will you agree to me annoying you for the rest of our lives?”

“You fucking jackass.”

Richie’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that a no?”

Eddie stuck his hand into his inside pocket and brought out a blue velvet box, opening it and revealing a similar ring.

Richie laughed. “No fucking way!” he exclaimed, throwing an arm around Eddie and pulling him into a hug. “When were you going to do it?”

Eddie looked down, abashed. “I was going to suggest a walk afterwards around the lake.”

“Aw, you were going to propose to me outside?”

“Out_side_? Are you fucking kidding me? Who knows what fucking germs are lurking on the ground. No, I was going to take you to the little gazebo that overlooks the lake. They have those plush red velvet cushions that I was going to kneel on.”

Richie’s smile threatened to overtake his entire face and he reached over, curling his hand around Eddie’s neck and kissing him. “I fucking love you.” His eyes shone with a fondness that made Eddie’s stomach drop. “So, Eds-Eduardo-Eddie Spaghetti-Edward Kaspbrak, will you marry me?” he asked against his lips.

“Only if you stop calling me those fucking nicknames.”

Richie inhaled through his teeth. “I don’t think I can promise that I’m afraid.”

“I guess I’ll just have to deprive you of my many housewife skills.”

“Well, thanks to living with you I know now how to properly deep clean the house _and_ how to do laundry.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

Richie leaned in, but quickly moved away again, eyes wide. “So, is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a fucking yes!” Eddie almost-shouted, grabbing Richie’s face in his hands and crashing their lips together in a searing kiss, the light from the rings twinkling in the candelight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The weird kid is actually my brother.
> 
> I also may or may not have a thing for Bill Hader in suspenders.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters and It belong to Stephen King. I know this goes without saying, but I wanted to say it.
> 
> Apart from Tim Delaney. This chap is an original character. I hope you like him.


End file.
